A Chance at Life
by PhasL
Summary: The fire destroyed the homes and lives of many. But from the ashes came new opportunties, the chance to step foward and try again, if there was the will. COMPLETE!
1. Part One

**A Chance at Life**

_Disclaimer: Okay here it goes... I do not own Phantom of the Opera in any way shape or form. I truly wish I did, it would be totally awesome, but I don't. All original characters (AKA the ones you've never heard about) are mine. So hope you enjoy the story...I think it's going in a good direction._

**Part One**

**I**

Flames leapt up from the theatre, sending showers of sparks into the night air. Outside an assortment of people and animals stood, many watching as their lively hood went up in smoke. Many were still confused over what had happened, and the gendarmes quickly tried to calm those who needed it, and help others.

Antoinette watched among a crowd of dancers, who milled around her for safety and security. Meanwhile she hid the panic she felt of not knowing where her daughter was, or what had happened with Christine and the vicomte.

A loud crash, and another explosion of sparks made the dancers scream, and caused a lump to rise in Antoinette's throat. Where were they? Then a young woman in a white dress caught her eye, being led by a young man in soaking wet clothing.

"Christine!" she called, startling the dancers, "my dear, are you alright?"

Christine nodded her head as Antoinette wrapped her arms around the young girl's shoulders, "I'm fine."

"Thank heavens," she breathed, "and you, young man, are you alright?"

"Yes," he replied a bit bitterly, "I will survive."

Antoinette nodded her head, but gave him a quick once over, just in case. He was soaked through with nasty red marks around his neck, and blood seeping through a shoulder wound to stain the white shirt pink.

"You will freeze," she said at length, "there are gendarmes everywhere, go and get some help."

"But I-"

"I will be here with her," Antoinette said, pushing him off, "go and find something warmer to put on, I will stay with her."

Once he was gone, with a final look back, Antoinette turned back to Christine. The poor girl looked as if she were about to faint, "Are you sure you are fine?"

"Yes," she said softly, "just…tired, I guess…"

"If you say so," Antoinette said, peering through the crowds to try and catch a glimpse of her daughter's blonde hair, "have you seen, Meg?"

"No," Christine said, suddenly concerned, "is she not here? Did she get out of the theatre?"

"I'm sure she is fine," Antoinette said, trying to calm her, "come, we should get away and find a place to stay for the night."

As they turned away another loud crash resounded through the streets, causing the horses to scream in terror and the people to gasp as more sparks lit up the night. Christine gave a gasp, obviously thinking the same that Antoinette was. That Meg was still in there, with the building coming down, even as the firemen attempted to quell the flames.

"Its not safe here," Raoul said, jogging up beside them, still soaking wet, "we have to get away."

"But Meg," Christine gasped, "she's still-"

She was cut off as a cry of relief came from several people, and a group of people came towards them from the burning building. Antoinette felt her heart leap at the sight of her daughter's blonde hair.

"Meg!" she called, "my dear, over here!"

"Maman!" Meg cried, eyes wide, "oh, I was afraid I would not find you…Christine, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, "really, just very tired."

"We were just leaving," Raoul said, firmly placing his hands on Christine's arms, "its dangerous here."

"Wait," Meg gasped, grabbing her mother's arms, "I…I have something to show you first."

Antoinette frowned in confusion, but the look in her daughter's eyes told her that she was truly serious, "Alright, my dear, take me there. Monsieur, there is an inn, five blocks from here, it is called Traverse Inn, go there. It is fairly small, but nice enough."

"Madame Giry," he sighed, "why do I not simply take her back to my house."

"Do as I say!" Antoinette exclaimed, "when you are there you will ask for three rooms. We can all pay for our own, so do as I say. We will meet you there."

"Fine," Raoul said heavily, apparently too tired to argue, "Traverse Inn? I believe I know the one."

Antoinette waited a moment before following her daughter, who seemed extremely agitated by something. She led her towards the theatre, then off to the side.

"My dear, it is not-"

"Just follow me!" Meg interrupted, taking her mother's hand.

Antoinette did as she was told, wondering what could possibly have her daughter so upset. But when she was pulled off to the side of the theatre, where there was barely any light, even from the fire, she had a feeling that she knew what she would find in the darkness. Up ahead she could already hear the ragged breathing.

When she saw him her heart immediately leapt into her throat. He, just like the boy, was nearly soaked through and his hair hung limply around his face. In his hand he held a white mask. Upon their approach he looked up, but, despite the look in his eyes, he made no attempt to get away.

"I didn't know what to do," Meg said helplessly.

"You did the right thing," Antoinette murmured, "you did the right thing…"


	2. II

**II**

"Meg, I need you to help me," Antoinette said, crouching in front of Erik, "Erik, are you alright?"

"No," he replied softly.

"Are you hurt?" Antoinette specified, for once glad that he did not respond with biting sarcasm.

"No," Meg said quickly, "no one found him."

"Alright," Antoinette sighed, "then get up."

Erik didn't even shift, he just sat there, even when another crash sounded from the theatre. After a few moments Antoinette sighed and grabbed him forearm.

"Erik, get up!" she commanded.

It took some effort, but she managed to pull him to his feet. Even then she was not sure if he would follow them, but at least he didn't fall over. With a sigh she looked around, trying to find the quietest way away from the theatre. People were swarming everywhere, many of them no doubt looking for him.

"Maman?" Meg asked after a few minutes.

"Meg, I need you to go to the inn, and tell them that I was delayed and may not be there until late."

"What should I tell them?" Meg asked.

"Tell them…tell them I stayed to help the dancers," Antoinette replied, "that there were many young ones who had no where to go, and that I stayed to keep them calm."

"I understand," Meg said, nodding her head, "I'll go ahead, but what about you?"

"He cannot stay in Paris," Antoinette replied seriously, "I need to get him out. I only hope that I will find a way."

Meg hurried away as fast as she could, disappearing into the crowd as Antoinette watched. An hour later she found herself riding in a carriage with Erik, travelling out of the confines of Paris and towards her childhood home. She knew someone who would look after Erik, no matter what his sins.

* * *

Christine jumped when Meg crashed into the room, hair windblown and face bright from running. 

"Meg," she breathed, "thank goodness, I was so worried. What did you need to show your mother?"

"Oh, nothing really," Meg replied.

"Where is she?" Raoul asked, "she isn't with you."

"That's what I had to show her," Meg said, quickly fabricating the story, "there were a lot of younger dancers who had nowhere to go. I wanted her to know, I figured she'd know what to do."

"But where is she?" Raoul asked.

"With them," Meg said, "she stayed with them until their homes could be found, or they had somewhere to stay. She told me to let you know that she'd be back later, much later. I don't know exactly when."

They accepted the story with very little debate, everyone was too tired to think otherwise. Even Meg had begun to feel the wear of the night, and she sat down on one of the beds to catch her breath.

"Christine," Raoul said, "you should get some sleep."

Christine just nodded her head and went over to the second bed in the room, "Good night, then."

"Good night," Raoul said, then moved towards the door, "I'll be in the next room, if you need me."

Christine nodded her head and he left. Almost as soon as the door was closed she took off the wedding dress and climbed into bed. Meg had already removed her boots, and was pulling the covers over herself.

"Christine?" she asked, dimming the lights.

"Yes, Meg?"

"He didn't…didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No," she replied quietly, "he didn't, Meg."

"Good…sleep well then."

"You too," Christine replied, and, before her head even hit the pillow, she was asleep.

* * *

Antoinette raised her fist and knocked on the large wooden doors. It was late, most likely well past midnight, but she had no doubts it would be answered. When no one answered she knocked again, this time so hard her knuckles hurt. Within seconds the door opened." 

"Anny?" Pierre gasped, "what are you doing here, and so late. You will catch your death."

"I need your help," she replied simply, motioning to the carriage behind her.

"Yes, yes what is it?" he asked, leaving the church and striding towards the carriage.

"Wait!" Antoinette said, "let me explain first, I need you to know what I am asking of you."

Antoinette explained as quickly and thoroughly as she could, and Pierre nodded his head and listened. By the end he knew exactly what she was asking and nodded his head gravely.

"This was that friend, wasn't it?" he asked, "the one you spoke to me about at Christmas."

"He is."

"I will help him," he replied, "I know of a place he can stay, get him and come with me. We have a bit of a walk, do you think he manage it?"

"Yes, I believe he can," she replied, going over to the carriage, "Erik, come out, I have a place for you to stay."

He obeyed warily and climbed out into the dark streets of the small town, one look at the church and his lip curled, but then Antoinette lead him away, after a man who was walking ahead of them.

"Where are we going?" Antoinette asked at length.

"Colette," Pierre began, "has a fairly large home, and she knows how to care for people. I thought that he could stay with her, on the far, away from most of the town."

"A good idea," Antoinette agreed, "how much further?"

"We're here," he said, starting towards a dark house.

He knocked once and then called, "Colette, it is Father Malone!"

"Father?" she asked, opening the door, what are you doing here so late, Madame Giry? What is it, is there something wrong?"

"I have a favour to ask of you," Pierre replied, "Anny has a friend who is in a bad state, and he cannot remain in Paris any longer. He needs a place to stay and, though I would be happy to let him stay with me at the church, I do not have the time, nor skills to deal with him. I was hoping-"

"Of course," Colette replied, nodding her head, "yes, if he could stay here. Of course, of course. After all you have done for us I would be honoured to help you. What's wrong with him? Where is he?"

"He…he is ill," Antoinette replied weakly, "I cannot say for sure, but he has not been well for some time and he has finally worn himself out."

"I understand," she said, "I have a room in the attic, he can take that."

"Merci," Antoinette breathed, "this means so much to me. Erik?"

Antoinette glanced back to see him step out of the shadows. He looked terrible, and she knew that he had most likely been ill before the performance, and was definitely so now. He look at Colette through guarded eyes, and she looked back with only concern.

"Come inside," she said, "you'll all catch your death out here. If you could keep it down a little, my daughter is asleep."

Pierre stepped inside first, and Antoinette waited for Erik to enter, unsure of what he would do if she did not. He followed Pierre warily, and Antoinette stepped in after him, closing the door as Colette turned up a lamp. She had barely taken a step forward when Erik's legs seemed to buckle and she rushed forward and grabbed him under the arms as he slid to the floor, breath coming in harsh gasps.

----------------

**A/N: Second chapter up, got two reviews so far and am hoping for more. Umm, I won't be around for the next couple of days, so I won't be able to update until at least Wednesday night. Hope you're enjoying so far.**


	3. III

III

By the time Antoinette made it back to Paris the sun was already rising pale over the city, so she went straight to the inn and then straight to the unoccupied room and to bed. She was not woken until well after noon, when the girls had finally woken up.

"What time did you get in?" Christine asked.

"Early this morning," Antoinette replied, "did you sleep well?"

"Yes," she replied, "I don't think I've ever been so tired."

"Where is Raoul?"

"He said he would be back," Christine murmured, "that he was going to his house to get a few things, some clothing and such…everything we had was back at the theatre."

"That was kind of him," Antoinette said.

"Where will we live?" Meg asked suddenly, "and work?"

"We will find a home," Antoinette assured her, "we have money and should be able to get a decent apartment. After that we can worry about jobs."

"Raoul wanted me to stay with him," Christine murmured.

Antoinette nodded her head, "Understandable, though I think you should stay with Meg and me."

"I know," she agreed, "and I think I would like that, if only for a little while."

Raoul returned in fresh clothes, and toting dresses for both Meg and Christine, "I figured they were close to the same size," he explained, "but I'm afraid I couldn't find anything for you, Madame Giry.

"That is fine," she replied, "they needed them more than I did. After all, a costume and a wedding dress are not suitable for them to be wearing outside."

"Do you need any help, Madame Giry?" he asked as they got changed, "you are out of both home and job. I would be glad you aid you in any way I could." 

"That will not be necessary, young man, but thank you. I had planned on going out his afternoon to look for an apartment."

"Very well, but if you do need help, just ask."

"You could take the girls out for lunch," Antoinette suggested, "that would help. I have a lot to do today. I would like a place to live before the week is out…and I was thinking of returning to the theatre, to see if there is anything left."

"Of course, Madame Giry, I would be glad to take them out," Raoul said, "I wish you luck."

* * *

Christine and Meg sat in the small café and munched slowly on the meals that Raoul had purchased for them. Christine didn't really feel all that hungry, but she didn't want to worry either of them.

"Where did you say my mother went?" Meg asked.

"To look for an apartment," Raoul replied, "I believe."

"Oh, well it was kind of you to take us to lunch. I could pay, it really isn't any trouble."

"Its fine," Raoul assured her, flipping through a newspaper.

Christine watched as he read the paper, a picture of the burning theatre evident on the front. She tried to catch bits of the article bellow, but he kept shifting it. After a while she gave up, she already knew what all the papers would be reading. It would be the main topic for at least a week.

They returned tot eh inn after lunch and waited until Antoinette returned. She arrived just as they were discussing dinner, laden down with bags and looking thoroughly tired.

"Madame, what is all this?" Christine asked.

"The belongings I could recover," she replied.

"From where?" Meg asked.

"The theatre," she replied, "I went back to see what was left. The fire was put out overnight and, though a bit unstable in places, much of the damage was kept to the auditorium and backstage."

"What did you get?" Christine asked.

"Some clothing, some shoes, a few belongings," she replied, "whatever I could find. Much of it is in need of washing, but it will be fine."

"Did you find a place to live, Madame Giry?" Raoul asked.

"No, not yet, though I managed to find a few places that would be suitable."

"We were about to go to supper," Meg said, "would you care to come?"

"Yes, but I will not have the young vicomte pay for our meals. We can take care of ourselves, thank you."

"It is up to you," he replied, "but we should hurry, before all the restaurants are full."

* * *

That night before bed Raoul took Christine aside to talk to her, something she had been dreading the entire day.

"Christine, I am going to return my house tomorrow," he said, "I was wondering whether you have made your decision to stay with me, or not."

"I-I think I'll stay with Madame Giry," she murmured, "for now at least. With everything that has happened, I really think it would be best that way."

His shoulders dropped slightly and he gave a heavy sigh, "It has always been best another way, hasn't it?"

"Raoul, I'm-"

"Don't be sorry," he sighed, "I never want you to have to be sorry, just happy, Christine. If you truly think it would be better to stay with Madame Giry, then that is fine. Just know that I would rather you stay with me."

"I know," she sighed, "maybe…I'm tired, Raoul. Maybe I should sleep on it?"

"Yes, maybe you should," he replied, leaning in to kiss her.

"Good night then," she said, then gave his a small hug, "I'll see you in the morning, Raoul."

"Good night…pleasant dreams, Little Lotte."

Christine went into her room and changed into a nightgown that Antoinette had purchased that day. She was glad for it too, it was far better than sleeping in just undergarments.

"Good night," Meg yawned from her bed.

"I'll see you in the morning," Christine replied, rolling over in her own bed.

Sleep claimed her quickly, but it was not the peaceful sleep of the night before. Music and fire filled her dreams, the caress of a lover, hands running down her back. A lover's kiss, two bodies in the darkness, roaming hands on bare skin.


	4. IV

IV

Darkness, blood and fire claimed his dreams and disturbed his sleep. The slash of a knife, the toss of rope, the sickening crack of a breaking neck and the thump of a body against the ground.

Erik opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room and felt panic rise in his chest. He sat up quickly, sending a jarring pain through his head that made him swoon and lay back on the bed. He closed his eyes for a moment, against a wave of nausea, and when he opened them again their was a woman standing over him.

She had light brown hair tied up in a bun, and grey-blue eyes. She was fairly young, perhaps mid thirties, and dressed simply. After a few seconds she seemed to realize him and gave a faint smile.

"You're up?" she asked, "well, that's good. Are you feeling any better?"

Erik turned his head away with a small grunt. The woman just sighed and reached out to place her fingers on his neck. His hand quickly shot out and grabbed her wrist. She just frowned at him.

"Let go," she said firmly, "and lay back."

He obeyed and allowed her to place her fingers on his neck. It felt hot and his pulse throbbed beneath her touch, "You're burning up, you should get some sleep. I'll come back to check on you later."

She turned to look at him and saw that his eyes were closed again. With a faint smile she left the attic room and made her way down to the kitchen. There her daughter sat, playing with a doll on the floor.

"Mama?" she asked, scrambling to her feet, "is Father Manson coming today?"

"No, Fleur," she replied, brushing her daughter's blonde bangs back from her face.

"Oh…can I go outside and play with the cat?"

"If you want," Colette replied, "just be careful around the cows."

"Thank you," Fleur giggled and dashed out of the house, leaving her mother to pick up her doll.

* * *

The next time Erik awoke the woman was there again, placing an ewer and basin on an old wooden desk. He watched her for a moment before sighing and turning his eyes towards the far wall.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said quietly, "you've been asleep for a long time. How are you feeling?"

He didn't respond.

"Don't feel like talking? That's fine, here drink this," she said, handing him a small glass of cold water.

He took it with a sigh and sat up a bit, causing his head to spin. He closed his eyes against it and took a sip of the water, it felt good against his dry throat.

"There you go," the woman smiled, "your fever is still fairly high, but I suspect it will break soon."

Fever, so that was why he felt so terrible. He felt hot, but at the same time found himself shivering. He hated it, it made his head feel light and caused his head to ache. With a sigh he finished the water and placed the glass carefully on the floor beside the bed.

"Who are you?" he asked, when the woman picked it up.

"Colette," she replied, "and you are Erik, correct?"

"Hmm…" he sighed.

"Get some rest," she said, "you'll feel better soon."

* * *

Erik found himself drifting in and out of consciousness over the next few days. Colette would often be there when he woke up. Or it at least seemed that way.

"Your fever doesn't seem to be going away," she sighed one afternoon, placing her hand on his cheek.

"What a shame," he murmured, turning his face away from her.

He heard her sigh and pour some water into the basin on the old wooden desk, "Maybe if you ate something," she suggested, wringing out a wet cloth, "it would help get your strength up."

"I am not hungry…" he murmured, jerking away when she placed a cool cloth on his forehead.

"Hold still," she said, "are you thirsty?"

"No."

"You will not get better like this," she sighed, throwing the cloth back into the basin.

"Perhaps," he whispered, "I do not wish to get better."

That evening Colette came into the room with a tray, topped with a tureen and a glass of milk. Erik glared at it from the bed. Unwilling to get up and eat. But Colette was insistent, she placed the tray on the old desk and uncovered the tureen.

"I brought you some supper," she said, "it will do you good to eat it."

"I don't want to," Erik replied.

"You haven't eaten in a while," she continued, ignoring his protest, "so I thought that milk toast would be appropriate. I didn't' want anything that would upset your stomach, you're sick enough as it is."

Erik tried to ignore the food, which was easily achieved. It was ignoring Colette that was not. She insisted that he eat, almost like Antoinette would have done. But her mannerism was much gentler. She didn't force the food upon him, instead the lectured him into submission.

"There," Colette said once he had eaten some of it, "I bet you feel better now, don't you?"

"No," he replied, lying back down. In truth he just felt more nauseous than ever.

"Good night then," she sighed, taking the rest of the food away.

Erik nearly laughed at that, every time he fell asleep his dreams haunted him. Whether with memories of death or of other tortures, it didn't seem to matter. A brutal whipping or a passionate kiss, they both seemed the same in his eyes now.


	5. V

V

It took some work, but within a week Antoinette had managed to find a small furnished flat to rent, and, with some help from Raoul, they had purchased enough clothing and materials to seem respectable.

"Christine," Meg said one evening, as they set the table for dinner, "I was thinking, we're dancers, right?"

"Yes, Meg," Christine replied, wondering exactly what her friend was thinking.

"And we used to help with the little ones at the theatre, right?" Meg continued.

"Yes, if we were asked," Christine agreed, "Meg, what are you getting at?"

"We need money," Meg replied frankly, "we have some, but not enough. Maman doesn't want you or I paying for anything, because we don't' have much, but I feel terribly guilty about her paying for everything. With all this, she can't have much left."

"Raoul ahs offered to help," Christine muttered, "but she won't have it, and I don't want to seem dependant on him, like I only want him for his money."

"Exactly," Meg said, "and there is a small school nearby, and dance school. I thought that we could maybe find work there."

Christine smiled weakly and nodded her head. It was just like Meg to want something to do so quickly. True, she had missed the frantic pace of the theatre a bit, but she was also tired and felt that a few days of rest would do them good. She still wasn't sleeping well, and the hectic process of moving had worn her out.

"I guess so," she replied after a while.

"Perfect," Meg said cheerfully, "we could go tomorrow, I'm sure we could find something to do, even if it is small."

"Have you two finished yet?" Antoinette asked.

Meg quickly placed the cutlery on the table and Christine adjusted the spoons so they were at least resembling straight.

"Yes," Meg said, "do you need any help?"

"No, my dears," Antoinette replied, placing a pot of stew on the table, "I was just curious. You two seem to do more talking than working some times."

* * *

The next morning Christine found herself following Meg through the streets in search of work. The first place they tried was the dance school, it was small and lovely, with many young girls trying their hand at dance. Most would not go far, but as young girls they wished to try anyways. Unfortunately they were not hiring.

"Its alright," Meg said cheerfully, "we can find someplace else."

"I suppose," Christine said, "but where, Meg?"

"I don't know," she replied truthfully, "why don't we just go for a walk? Maybe we'll find something on our way. I saw a dress shop on our way here that I wanted to look at."

Christine nodded her head and followed her friend in the direction of the store in question. If anything Meg was determined, though perhaps a bit too hopeful. Christine could never remember ever feeling quite so hopeful, she had always been the one to follow Meg on her expeditions, never expecting anything grand to happen. She had always considered it the wiser thing to do. After all, if she didn't get excited about something, then she wouldn't be disappointed.

"Hurry up," Meg encouraged, "and look at that dress. Isn't it beautiful?"

"It is lovely," Christine agreed, staring at the pale blue, lacy dress displayed in the shop window.

* * *

For the rest of the afternoon Christine found herself being totted around the city, stopping gin many different shops to browse. Meg hadn't given up on finding them jobs and, by the end of the day, she had managed to charm them into a job at a small flower shop.

"It will be fun," she said as they re-entered the house, "don't you think?"

"Of course," Christine agreed, "but we don't' have any experience."

"That's fine, we can learn," she persisted, always the optimist.

"So, you two are finally home?" Antoinette asked, "I was beginning to wonder."

"Sorry," Meg murmured.

"It is fine, supper is almost ready."

"Oh, then we'll set the table."

"No, I have already done so, Meg, but thank you for offering."

"Madame?" Christine asked, "I'm a bit tired, so I think I'll just go to bed."

"Are you feeling well, my dear?" Antoinette asked, furrowing her brow.

"Just tired," Christine assured her, "its been a long week, I think I just need a bit of rest."

"Alright, good night then," Antoinette said.

"Yeah, good night," Meg said, touching her arm gently, "I hope you feel better."

Christine went to her room and changed into her nightgown before climbing into bed. She fell asleep quickly, and a world of music and fire quickly enveloped her. She could feel hands caressing her body and the searing kiss of a lover. When she awoke there were tears on her cheeks and, for the first time since the fire, she allowed herself a good cry.


	6. VI

VI

Erik glared at Colette, who was busily placing a tray on the desk and unloading it's contents, "I would appreciate it," he said pointedly, "if you would stop entering my room while I am sleeping."

"Would you rather I knock and wake you?" she asked.

He glowered at her knowing that that wouldn't really be any better. Still, he hated to have his privacy intruded on, especially when it was for something as trivial as a meal. Which she seemed insistent to provide.

"Now, I didn't bring you anything big," she said, "since I know that you wouldn't eat it. Just a bit of chicken stew and bread. How does that sound?"

"Revolting," he muttered under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"I am not hungry," he snapped.

"Come now, you barely ever eat, you must be hungry," she said, taking the dish over to him, "its quite good, even my daughter loves it and-"

"I said I am not hungry!" Erik shouted, lashing out with his arm and knocking the dish from her hands.

The dish hit the floor and shattered, sending pieces of the broken dish and chicken stew smearing across the floor. Colette stepped back, face pale and eyes wide. With a bow of her head she wiped some of the gravy from her hands.

"I-I see," she murmured, "well, I think you made that very clear, yes. I-I think I will get a cloth and clean this up. I'm glad to see you have some of your energy back. Now, if you don't mind, I'll return in a minute."

She did and cleaned up the mess quietly, while Erik watched her miserably from his seat on the bed. He hadn't meant to lose his temper like that, but as he began to feel better he found himself becoming restless.

"I apologize," he murmured as she left. She just turned and gave him a weak, nervous smile.

He sighed heavily and slumped back on the bed, wondering how he always seemed to make a mess of things. Surely now she would not want him to stay in the house, and he could not blame her. After all, she did have a young daughter.

With a groan he sat up and looked around the room. It was filled with old belongings, trunks of, what he guessed, were clothes were stacked in one corner. At the end of his bed sat a rather large old desk, accompanied by a matching chair. A few books were also piled against a wall. It was actually fairly nice, despite the small window above his bed that allowed the sunlight to stream in. he found that rather annoying, since it always seemed to shine right in his eyes when the curtains were open.

"Why am I even here?" he sighed, running his hands over his face and feeling the one slide over the cool white leather.

"I believe," Colette replied quietly, "it was Antoinette who brought you here."

"Oh!" he said, startled by her sudden presence, "ah yes…she always was meddlesome. Why can she never let me die in peace, instead of dragging it out?"

"I'm sorry to have startled you," she said, "I just came to get the tray. I realized that I left it here."

She grabbed it from the desk and left quickly, turning at the door she said, "Maybe, because she cares about you."

Erik waited for her to leave before getting up and walking across the room to look at some of the scattered belongings. There seemed to be nothing of any real value, just some old clothes, broken furniture and other odds and ends.The roomreminded him vaguely of his lair, but to a smaller degree.

With a heavy sigh he returned to the bed and slumped onto it.He suddenly felt very tired and wanted nothing more than to slip into oblivion.

* * *

The next morning the sun woke him, the rays dancing through the windows to make him uncomfortably warm. With an aggravated grunt he threw off the blankets and got up, pulling the curtains tight. Below he could already hear Colette serving breakfast, either that or clearing away the dishes. 

It was a fleeting decision, one that he regretted almost the second he made the choice. But it was too late, he was already on the stairs and refused to turn around and go back into the attic, no matter how much he wished to hide from the world.

"Oh!" gasped Fleur, hey bright blue eyes lighting up in her small face, "good morning."

Erik just nodded his head stiffly and stepped off the stairs and into the kitchen. Colette turned from the small stove and gave him a fleeting smile.

"So, you've decided to join us?" she asked, "we're having porridge, if you'd like some."

"I'm not…thank you," he said, gritting his teeth and nodding his head.

"Here," Fleur said, pulling out a chair, "you can sit there. Go on."

Erik took the seat tentatively and stared at the table in front of him. Colette placed a bowl in front of him, along with a spoon and some honey. He just looked up and sighed.

"Do you like porridge?" Fleur asked, drizzling honey on her own, "cause I so. I think its real good, if you put some honey on it."

"I do no know," Erik replied, picking up his spoon and digging out a spoonful. It certainly didn't look all that appealing, but then again no food had ever looked appealing to him. So he took a small bite.

"Its hot," Colette warned, "so be careful not to burn your tongue, Fleur."

"I know," she said, stirring her porridge vigorously.

"Here," Colette sighed, pouring some milk on it, "that should cool it down. Erik, would you like some milk on yours?"

"Hmm? Oh…no, its fine."

"Suit yourself," Colette shrugged and poured a bit on hers, before adding honey to it.

Erik sat back and watched them eat, not truly hungry himself, but not quite willing to leave. He had been rude enough up to this point. The least he could do was attempt a bit of civility. Though by the end Fleur seemed to have wiped him of all patience.

"We have two horses and a cow," she told him proudly, "we used to have more cows, but then papa died so we had to sell them. Now we just grow vegetables and stuff."

"I see," he mumbled.

"Do you want to see the horses?" Fleur asked excitedly, "I like Fred, he's really nice."

"No thank you," Erik replied, standing up abruptly and heading towards the stairs.

"I'm glad you decided to join us," Colette said, "and that you seem to be feeling better."

He gave a small inclination of his head before climbing back up to the attic. The cursed house was too small, the stairs from the attic led right into the kitchen, which led right into the living room. Form there the bedrooms were all just down a small hall. He also figured there to be a cellar somewhere, no doubt only accessible from the outside of the house.

A cellar, there was no doubt in his mind that that would be the better place for him to live. Away from the bright sunlight and the prying eyes of people. Only one meal with them and he already wanted nothing more to do with the house. With a sigh he placed his head in his hands and sat down on the bed.

-------------------------

**A/N: I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far, if so review and if not...review! Anyways, there should be another update tomorrow.**


	7. VII

VII

Christine stared out the window of the flower shop and sighed. Meg had been partially right, they had been able to learn most things quickly. But she found that she didn't like the job at all, it bored her and kept her busy when she would have much rather been idle.

He was dead, she had decided that shortly after the fire. Her angel was dead, killed by an angry mob or the fire that had ravaged the theatre. She had heard his final cries and they had torn her heart apart. The fact that he still seemed to haunt her dreams only made it worse.

She wanted to cry, in fact, it was all she ever felt like doing. But there was no time. Meg would drag her off to work in the morning, and they would not return until evening. Then there was dinner and then there was bed.

"Christine?" Antoinette asked, "my dear, you look unwell. Perhaps you should not go out tonight."

"I'm fine," Christine replied, looking at her own pale reflection in the mirror, "just a bit tired."

"You are always tired," Antoinette sighed, "if there is something bothering you-"

"There's nothing," Christine lied, smiling at her guardian, "I'm just a bit nervous about going out with Raoul tonight. I'm supposed to have dinner with his family again."

Raoul, she hadn't seen him in nearly a week, though she didn't find that she missed him very much, which only served to make her feel guilty. So, when he had discussed a dinner with his parents, she said that she would be happy to attend. Even though it was far from the truth.

"He's here," Meg said, poking her head into the room, "oh, you look beautiful, Christine."

"Thank you," she replied, hurrying towards the front hall.

"Good evening, Little Lotte," Raoul greeted, a warm smile playing on his features.

"Raoul," she smiled, "its so good to see you again. I've missed you."

"And I you," he replied, kissing her hand, "come, we'll be late otherwise. Madame Giry, I promise to have her home at a respectable hour."

"You had better," she shot back.

"I promise," he repeated, "ten o'clock, midnight at the latest."

"Very well, have a good time," she said.

Christine smiled at her and allowed Raoul to lead her to the carriage. Once inside she let out a small sigh and smiled at him. He looked well, for the first time in a what seemed like forever there were no dark circles under his eyes and he didn't' seem so pale.

"You look tired," he said sadly, "are you feeling well?"

"Fine," she replied, "though I guess a bit tired. Meg is very enthusiastic about our working to help Madame."

"When we get married," Raoul said happily, "you won't have to work."

Christine smiled, but found the thought of it a bit unsettling. It wasn't that she didn't like to work, in fact she had loved working at the theatre. It was just the job, at the moment, she had never really been one for flowers. Yes, they were pretty to look at, but what was the real point other than that?

"Think about it," Raoul continued, "we could be happily married, no more secrets, Christine!"

"Yeah," she agreed, "that would be wonderful."

Raoul smiled and placed a kiss on her lips as the carriage jostled to a stop. The driver quickly opened the door and Raoul climbed out, turning to help her.

The house was beautiful and they were both greeted warmly by Raoul's parents. They were just as Christine remembered them. A larger man with thinning grey hair and a moustache, and a lovely woman with greying blonde hair, pinned up so it would stay out of her face.

"Mother, father," Raoul said cheerfully, "you do remember Christine, don't you?"

"How could we forget?" the comtesse replied.

"Yes, you are looking well," the comte muttered.

"Its good to see you again," Christine murmured, forcing herself to smile.

"Yes, indeed," the comtesse agreed, "come now, dinner is ready to be served."

Dinner wasn't as bad as she had thought it would be. Raoul and his father talked about business and Christine nibbled on her food. She didn't really feel very hungry, but she didn't want to appear rude.

"You are looking a bit pale," the comtesse commented after a while, "are you feeling well?"

"Oh, just a bit tired," she said, "its been very busy lately."

"Ah yes, that whole affair."

"You've heard…"

"My dear girl, I believe that all of Paris knows of it," she said with a light chortle.

"I see…"

"You are sure that you are well?" she repeated.

"Just tired," Christine repeated.

"Yes, well the city never was a good place to get any rest," the comtesse commented, "I always found that some time in the country does me well when I am under the weather. Have you ever considered that?"

"I couldn't," Christine replied, feeling herself shrink in the chair, "I have work."

"Poor dear," she said, placing her hand over Christine's, "it must be hard to work after such a traumatizing event. You should really be resting."

"I don't' mind," Christine lied.

"You're very brave," the comtesse said, "Albert, when was the last time we went to the country?"

"Hmm, I believe it was last summer," he replied thoughtfully, "before we went to Spain."

"Of course, how could I forget? I was just telling Miss Daae that she could benefit from some time in the country."

"Mother," Raoul groaned.

"Oh shush! She is terribly pale, I am just suggesting a few weeks to improve her health."

"That seems a splendid idea," the comte agreed, "don't you agree, son?"

"Christine has to work," Raoul argued weakly.

"If you say so," his mother sighed, "however, insist upon you coming with your father and me. You've been under a lot of stress lately, don't you think a few weeks will be nice?"

"I have work," Raoul argued, "I cannot leave Paris for at least three weeks, and neither can father."

"So I am to go alone?" she sighed, "oh well, I'm sure you will visit, no?"

"Of course," Raoul agreed.

"Good, now if everyone is finished with dinner, how about dessert?"

After dinner Christine felt entirely drained, and was glad to get into the carriage to go home. Raoul also seemed a bit exhausted, his mother had continued to fuss over Christine's health throughout the evening.

"Maybe, you should just go with her," Raoul sighed once they were in the carriage.

"Raoul I can't."

"She has a point," he said earnestly, "you're quite pale, and with everything that has happened perhaps you should get some rest. it's a beautiful place, it would do you good."

"I don't know…"

"Please," he said, taking her hands in his, "Little Lotte, just think about it. I could come out and visit for a few days, it would be very romantic."

Christine just sighed and looked out the window and watched the houses flit by. The country did sound welcoming, but the thought of spending so much time with the comtesse made her stomach turn.

"I'll think about it," she said once they reached the small flat.

"Thank you," Raoul said, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek, "I will see you tomorrow, Little Lotte."

Christine nodded her head and went inside the small flat. Antoinette was waiting up for her and offered to help her get out of the dress.

"I'll be fine," Christine said, "but thank you. I'll see you in the morning, Madame."

"Sleep well," she replied.

"I will, thank you. See you in the morning."


	8. VIII

VIII

Idleness had never sat well with Erik. He often found that if he did nothing he would become irritable and restless. In the theatre this could be easily dealt with. He could walk through the vast cellars and stories, he could compose or he could design sets and other pieces of architecture. In the attic of a small farm house, however, he found that his mind would race and he would have nothing to do about it but lay awake and think.

When it finally became too much for him to lie on the bed and stare at the dusty ceiling, he got up and crept down the stairs. It was already late, so he didn't have to worry about being seen, so he quickly slipped out the door and into the cool night air.

He had been out before and found that walking over the small farm provided some relief for the restlessness that seemed to be slowly driving him mad in the attic. Boredom, it had even bothered him in the theatre.

"At least there I could easily vanquish it," he murmured, leaning against a fence and watching the horses in the pasture.

They grazed lazily as he watched, flicking their ears and swishing their tales from side to side. As a young boy he remembered loving the stables of the theatre. The horses had always enjoyed his late night visits and he had been happy to make them. For more reasons than one.

He walked until the first pink glow of dawn tinged the sky and sighed heavily before wandering back towards the house. As he slipped back up the stairs he could hear Colette entering the kitchen.

-------------------------

The day proved to be rather dreary, rain pelted gently against the window, lulling Erik into a half wakeful state in which his mind wandered aimlessly from one topic to the next.

After a while he actually fell asleep and found himself assaulted by painfully vivid dreams of an insistent mouth and a warm body. When he woke up he gave a low groan and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. A few moments later he heard the faint knock at the door and then the creak of it opening.

"How are you feeling?" Colette asked cheerfully.

Erik replied with a muffled groan, not bothering to lift his face from the pillow. Colette raised her eyebrows slightly and shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I hope you are feeling well," she said, bustling about the room, "I thought you might want to join us for dinner."

Erik sighed heavily and turned his face away from the pillow, "I think not…I am not feeling very well."

"That is a shame," she said quietly, "I brought up a few things for you. I thought that you may find them useful. They are on the desk if you want them."

"What?" Erik asked bitterly, "no false concern for my health?"

"I'll bring something up for you later," she replied, "I hope you are feeling better by then."

Erik waited until she was gone to rise from the bed and investigate what she had placed on the desk. His eyebrow raised curiously at the sight of a small round mirror and a razor. With a small frown he ran his hand over his chin. Then, with a resigned sigh, he picked up the razor and the small mirror.

Colette returned to the room to find Erik sitting on the bed and staring blankly at the small shaving mirror. He didn't even look up when she entered, just stared ahead as she placed a tray on the desk.

"I brought some tea," she informed him, "do you like anything it in?"

"I'm a monster," Erik hissed, grip tightening on the edge of the mirror.

"Milk or honey?" Colette repeated, sighing irritably when he didn't answer.

She shook her head and placed the cup on the tray before turning to leave. She was almost at the door when she heard him give an enraged shout. She turned just in time to see him smash the mirror. He immediately gave a grunt of pain and closed his hand.

"You're hurt," Colette commented, walking back over to the bed, all of her frustration suddenly gone, "let me see your hand."

"Go away," he whispered, "I don't want your help."

She watched him for a moment, clasping his hand shut as the blood dripped from an unseen cut. His breathing seemed somewhat harsh and, for a moment, she thought she saw tears glisten in his eyes.

"You're really hurting, aren't you?" she asked, sitting on the bed beside him.

"I told you to go away," he snapped.

She ignored him and reached out to take his hand. He drew it away quickly and visibly shied away when she reached across to take it.

"I won't hurt you," she said gently, "I just want to help."

Very carefully she opened the hand to look at the damage the glass had done. It wasn't much, just a cut across the palm of his hand, still, it bled a lot and she quickly dampened a cloth to wipe the blood away.

"No slivers," she said, frowning at the cut, "why did you do that?"

He didn't answer and she became aware of the tears running down his cheek. With a sigh she tried to wipe them away, only to have him turn his head away from her. She just shook her head and finished cleaning the cut.

"You should get some rest," she suggested.

Erik nodded his head and lay back on the bed once she had gotten up. She went over to the desk and picked up the cup of tea. Erik's eyes flickered towards it and he gave a small sigh.

"Would you like some?" she asked, he merely shook his head, "fine, I'll let you be."

"I'm such a coward," he muttered when her hand was on the door.

"Pardon?" she asked, turning back towards him.

"I can't even stand to see my own face in the mirror," he continued, "all I can see reflected is everything I've done wrong…all I can see is a monster."

"Get some sleep," Colette said gently, "you'll feel better in the morning."

------------------------

She lied, he felt no better the next day, or the one after that. But he decided to start trying and decided to work off his restlessness by finding things to keep himself busy. He had made a decision, he wouldn't dwell on the past, he would forget and move on. Something easier said than done.

"Tired?" Colette asked when he sat down at the table.

"Hmm?"

"You've been doing a lot lately," she replied, "I've seen you out there. Working with the black stallion, fixing things. Fleur is quite taken with you being up and about."

"Yes, she showed me that cat she likes so much," Erik replied distantly, "it is very large."

"She likes to give it little treats," Colette replied., "you seem distant, is everything alright?"

"Fine," he replied heavily, "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"Going to Paris," he muttered, "it has recently come to my attention that I have very few personal belongings here. I was thinking of going into Paris for a day to find a few desired items."

"Like clothes?" Colette asked. With the few things he had arrived with he had been forced to wear her husband's old clothing. Due to his height and sleight form they were rather ill fitting.

"Yes," Erik muttered, "like clothes."

"Well, the weather has been fairly nice lately. So I see no reason why you shouldn't go. If you are feeling well enough, that is."

"I think I am," he replied.

"When were going to go?"

"In a few days," he said absently, "I think I'll go to bed early. I'm rather tired at the moment."

"If you say so," Colette replied, "are you not feeling well?"

"Fine," he replied irritably, "I am not dying you know?"

Colette just smiled faintly, Antoinette had commented on his attitude the first night he had arrived, more as a warning than anything else. She had said that he had a wicked temper and would often respond to things with either biting sarcasm or blatant disregard. He was not one to dance around anything.

"Maman?" Fleur asked, running into the kitchen, "have you seen Erik? He said he would play with me."

"So that is why," she murmured, glancing at the stairs, "I'm afraid he's in his room, he was a bit tired."

"Oh," Fleur pouted, "but I wanted to pick flowers with him, there are a lot now that its spring."

"You could still pick some," Colette suggested, "in fact why don't you? I'm sure that some flowers would brighten up the house."

"Even Erik's room?"

"Yes, even Erik's room. Go on now, supper will be soon."

"Uh-huh!" the little girls exclaimed, running back out the door.


	9. IX

IX

The day Erik finally went to Paris proved to be overcast with a definite threat of rain. Colette looked out the kitchen window and sighed.

"You had to pick today, didn't you?"

"Yes," he replied dryly, "why, is something wrong?"

"Not if you want to be rained on," she replied.

"You're going to Paris?" Fleur asked excitedly.

"Yes."

"Wow, I've heard its really big. Have you ever been there?"

"Yes."

"Are there lots of big building and stuff?"

"Yes."

"Can I go with you?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No"

"Pretty please?"

"I'm leaving, good bye," Erik said, standing up and sweeping from the room, "I'll be back later."

"Pretty, pretty, pretty please?"

"No!" he shouted as he strode towards the barn.

----------------------

The ride into Paris was nearly three hours and by the time he arrived the sky had darkened significantly and the air hung heavy around him. With a sigh he dismounted and led the black stallion through the city.

The streets were crowded, despite the threat of rain, and after several minutes of walking he became irritated with the closeness of the general public. With a sigh he pushed his way through the crowds.

He had never really shopped before, and found the entire experience somewhat overwhelming and very irritating. People either asked too many questions or tried to make conversation. Neither of which he really liked. So by mid afternoon he came up with a different plan and headed towards the Opera Populaire.

The damage, from the outside at least, didn't appear as bad as he knew it was. All of the windows were blown out, and the doors were gone. He tethered his horse to one of the railings leading up to the theatre and ducked around the side. He knew that the tunnels would have mostly remained in tact. After all, they were made in stone and led down into the theatre.

His lair was in better shape than he had imagined. With the mob he hadn't held out much hope that anything would be there, however it seemed that, for the most part, they had left it alone. Most likely because they wanted to get out of the theatre, afraid of the fire.

He collected as much as he could, mostly clothing and masks, along with a few other items that he hadn't purchased in the stores. It took longer than he thought and by the time he left the theatre he felt tired and irritable. He had never wanted to see the place again. It harboured too many painful memories, ones which he never wanted to relive, so, as he untied his horse, he decided that he wouldn't visit the building again.

"Come on," he muttered, walking back towards the busy streets, "we should leave before it gets too dark."

As he made his way back to the edge of the city he made his way down a smaller, quieter street filled with smaller shops. One of them was a nice dress shop with a blue dress displayed in the window. He paused for a moment to look at it before moving on. His horse snorted and tugged gently to the other side of the road.

"What?" Erik frowned, eyeing the flower shop on the other side of the street. Several large bouquets were displayed outside and he shook his head, "no, I think not."

He tugged the horse away just as two girls hurried out of the shop, calling goodbyes to the woman inside. With a final tug at the reins he guided the horse away as a few raindrops splashed the back of his hand.

"Hurry up, Christine!" the blonde girl called, "its raining!"

"Christine?" Erik asked, turning in time to see the two girls rush off down the street. One with bright blonde hair, the other with brown curls.

He remained frozen until a few more drops of rain fell on him and the stallion butted it's head into his back. With a small nod he patted it's nose and guided it away as the rain began to increase.

------------------

By the time Erik returned to the small farmhouse rain was pelting the ground and thunder rumbled in the distance. With a curse he put the horse in the barn and stormed to the house, packages in hand.

"You're back!" Colette exclaimed as he flung open the door.

"So it would…seem," he growled, glancing down at the large cat that was lying in front of him.

"Hi, Erik!" Fleur called cheerfully.

He sighed irritably and brushed wet hair from his face. He tried to take a step forward and found his path blocked by the fat cat lying in front of him like a dead animal. He glared at it for a minute before prodding it with his foot. The cat gave a small squawk but didn't move.

"If you'd like some supper there's some left," Colette informed him, "oh, just push her out of the way. Fleur got upset about leaving her out in the rain."

Erik glared down at the cat before shoving it out of the way, "I'm not very hungry."

"Fine, what did you get?"

"Everything," he replied curtly, "I'll be in my room. Good night."

-----------------------------

Christine sighed as she arranged a bouquet of lilies, the sky outside was bleak and it threatened to rain. Inside the shop, however, it was beautiful, with flowers of all sorts in vases and bouquets.

"Christine those look lovely," Meg commented, "I've always liked lilies, haven't you?"

"I guess so," she replied.

"You should have them at the wedding."

"Wedding?" Christine asked.

"Of course," Meg replied, "you and Raoul have talked about it, right?"

"Oh, yes…I guess we have," she replied.

Truthfully her visits with Raoul were often short, given all the work he seemed to have. When they did visit they didn't talk of weddings or engagements, something she thought was for the better. True, he had brought it up once or twice, but nothing ever came from it.

"You two stop gossiping and get back to work," the store owner scolded, "there is work to be done. Ah, see a customer? Good afternoon…"

Christine sighed and went back to arranging flowers while Meg helped another customer. It was strange, she knew, that she didn't mind not talking of marriage with Raoul. She knew, even if he wouldn't admit it, that his parents would never allow it and, oddly enough, she didn't find herself overly sad about it.

"Christine!" Meg called, "do you know if there are any daffodils?"

"Oh, I think so," she replied, "here, I'll go check."

"Thank you," an elderly woman said, "I would really like some. They are my favourites."

Time passed slowly in the shop and by the end of the day Meg was more than ready to leave.

"You two can go now," the woman who ran the store informed them.

"Alright," Christine smiled, "we'll see you tomorrow then."

"Come on," Meg said, then glanced out the window, "oh, it looks like it might rain."

"It will be fine, Meg," Christine informed her, "its looked like that all day."

"Fine," she sighed, pushing out the door and into the street, "good bye, Madame Bordeaux!"

"Yes, good bye," Christine agreed, following her friend into the street, "we'll see you tomorrow."

"Get out of here!" the plump, red haired woman laughed, "go on, be gone!"

Christine couldn't help a smile as she closed the door and went to follow Meg. The smile was lost when she saw the large black horse in front of her, being led away by a man. For a moment she could have sworn that she saw a flash of white and paused, watching as a few rain drops hit her face.

"Hurry up, Christine!" Meg called, "its raining!"

Christine turned away quickly and ran up the street, she had imagined it. There was no way that it could have been him. When she caught up with Meg she gave her a little smile.

"I'm sorry, I thought I saw something."

"You said it wouldn't rain," Meg teased.

"Well it isn't very hard. If we hurry we won't get too wet."

They jogged through the streets and back to their house, barely getting in the door as a downpour started. Meg gave a sigh of relief and closed the door behind them.

"That was too close," she panted.

"At least we made it," Christine sighed, "come on, dinner must be almost ready."

"Right. Maman, we're home!"

"I see you just missed the rain," Antoinette replied, "lucky."

"Very," Christine agreed.

"How were your days?"

"Good," they both replied.

"I see. Any details?"

"Nothing very exciting happened," Christine shrugged, "what's for dinner?"

"Stew," Antoinette informed them.

"Anything happen to you today?" Meg asked, heading into the dining room.

"Non, nothing out of the ordinary," Antoinette replied, "Christine, you received a letter."

"Oh?"

"It is on the table in the parlour, if you wish to read it."

"Thank you, Madame," she said, hurrying into the parlour.

The letter was from Raoul and in it he told her of his mother's plans to go out to the country estate for two weeks in the summer. Christine gave a small sigh, it seemed that she was still wanted to go.

"Anything good?" Antoinette asked.

"No…the comtesse wishes me to go out to the country estate in the summer. I don't really know if I should go."

"It would be impolite to refuse. However it gives you some time to think, it is only April after all. When is she going?"

"Mid may, I think it said," Christine sighed, "I don't' think I should go. I have work."

"Oh go on," Meg said, "the store is never that busy, besides it would be nice. You always look so pale and tired. Maybe some time in the country will make you feel better. Won't Raoul be there?"

"I don't know, he's awfully busy," Christine replied, "maybe for a few days."

"That would be so romantic," Meg said, "that's it then, you have to go!"

Christine just sighed and went into the dining room. May was still a fair ways away, she could always think about it, though she knew how disappointed Raoul would be if she didn't go. She would have to, even if she didn't like it.


	10. X

X

Erik found that life on the small farm was bearable at the best of times. True, he did enjoy riding and there was usually some sort of work to do, to keep his mind busy. Still, between Fleur's constant need for attention and Colette's constant want to ensure his health he found that he had little peace. Something he was certainly used to.

He found that a good way to get away from it was to visit some of the nearby towns. There was of course the one only minutes away, but he found it too small. Everyone seemed to know one another, and he stood out like a sore thumb. So he often found himself riding to Paris for a day, something that bothered Colette a bit.

"The point of you being here was to keep you away from Paris," she informed him once.

Erik rolled his eyes at that remark. Paris was no more dangerous than the small town. He had read the papers, and if anyone could match his description to the ones given it would mean that he had been dead for many months. It was amazing how Buquet's old tale had risen from the grave after the fire.

Still, he didn't go often during the day, instead he would leave at night and return before dawn. He preferred the city at night, it was much easier to navigate the streets and still be away from the boredom of the country.

"Erik?" Colette asked, "would you mind fixing something today?"

"Fixing what?" he asked, already half out the door.

"That cursed horse of yours managed to break one of the fence posts," she replied, "I was wondering if you could repair it before anyone escapes."

"He is not my horse," Erik corrected her, "he is your horse, and I don't see why I should have to fix your stupid fence."

"Because you can and I can't," she shot back, "and because Father Manson cannot come out to fix it. So it is is your job. You have nothing better to do anyways."

Erik snorted and stormed out of the house. Maybe she was right, he had little to do, but he still wanted to do it. So when he reached the broken fence post he gave if a swift kick, breaking the splintered post in half.

It took nearly the whole afternoon the repair the fence, and by the end of it he was hot and irritable. It seemed that the summer heat was already starting to bear down, even though it was only the second week of may.

"Hey, Erik," Fleur said, dancing over to him as he stormed across the yard, "watcha doing?"

"Going inside," he replied.

"Really?" she asked, "what was you doing before?"

Erik just snorted and strode past her, throwing open the door and slamming it shut behind him. The first thing he saw when he entered was the cat, and it received the full brunt of his frustration.

"You are the fattest cat in the world!" he shouted, glaring at the large animal as it lazed in the sun from the window, "you disgust me!"

"Did you fix the fence?" Colette asked calmly.

"Yes, I fixed your godamn fence!" he snarled.

"Thank you," she replied, "now, if you would stop shouting."

"I'll shout if I want to!" he shot back.

Colette only shook her head, "We're having Father Manson over for dinner tonight, so if you'd like to get changed."

"And if I wouldn't?"

"Its up to you," she replied, "however I would suggest it."

Erik gave a low growl and stormed up to his room , shooting the cat another vicious glare as he went. When he next came down he was dressed in clean clothes and sat down in one of the chairs around the table. Father Manson was already there.

"Well, you look far better than the first night I saw you," the man said cheerfully, "good evening, I am Pierre."

Erik gave the outstretched hand a disgusted look, "How nice for you."

"Yes," Pierre said, withdrawing his hand, "well, how have you been... Erik, correct?"

"Fine and yes."

Pierre cleared his throat and offered a weak smile, "Talkative, isn't he?"

"Very," Colette replied, "Erik, perhaps you could try to be polite?"

"Yeah," Fleur agreed, "Father is really nice. He runs the church and helps people. He helped us after daddy left."

"I'll try my hardest," Erik muttered.

The meal was awkward at best. Pierre attempted conversation and received no more from Erik than was absolutely necessary. This resulted in many one word answers and a few dark looks.

"Have you heard from Antoinette lately?" Colette asked after dinner.

"A bit," he replied, "she sent a small letter detailing how they are. It seems she recently started teaching again at the _Théâtre des Variétés_. It sounds as if they are all well."

"That's a good thing," Colette said, "don't you agree, Erik?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes," he replied, refocusing on the conversation.

They were fine, that was good. He had to admit that he had worried over their health and well being, if only briefly. Antoinette had certainly been a friend to him and her daughter had always been a friendly, if overly curious, girl. It was good to hear that they were alright, and that she had found a good job the _Variétés_, it was a nice enough theatre.

"Well," Pierre sighed, "I should be going. Church tomorrow and all. Will I be seeing you all there?"

"Yes," Colette replied at the exact same time Erik said, "No!"

"And why not?" Colette asked.

"I'm atheist," Erik replied simply.

"I see," Pierre nodded, "and why, if I may ask."

"I simply cannot believe in God," Erik said icily, "you, however, are more than welcome to your pitiful beliefs."

"Erik!" Colette exclaimed.

"Good night," he replied, before disappearing into the attic.

The next few days passed with little excitement, Colette scolded him a bit for his behaviour towards Pierre, but said nothing else. For this he was glad and decided to go into Paris for a day.

The city was busy, as he expected, but he managed to purchase several items that he wanted. Besides, he hadn't really gone for the city, he had gone to get away for a while. He found that he enjoyed the long, slow ride to the city.

While in the city he debated visiting Antoinette, but decided against it. She would be working and he did not want to disturb her, or bother her with his presence. In his mind it had been a small miracle that she had offered to save him after the fire. He knew that if he had been in her position, he would not have done so.

As he left the city an old, run down estate caught his eye. It seemed to be a nice enough house, large with plenty of room while still being close to the city. He frowned slightly at the carriage waiting on the large drive and guided his horse up to the house.

"Shh!" Erik hissed when his horse gave a quiet whinny.

The house certainly needed some work, he noted once close enough to see. The outside was in fairly good condition, despite some crumbling stonework. The inside, from what he could see, however, was in need of some serious remodelling. He frowned slightly as he drew a few simple designs in his mind.

"Admiring the house?" a man asked, causing Erik to start violently and whirl around.

A young man stood before him, grinning lazily at his reaction. He was handsome, with green eyes and chocolate coloured hair. Erik frowned at him and cleared his throat a bit awkwardly.

"Indeed," he replied, "I noticed it as I was passing by and wished to see it."

"Really?" the young man asked, glancing back at the house and shrugging, "so, what do you think?"

"I think that it could use a significant amount of work. Some of the stonework is crumbling and it seems a general mess."

"It certainly does," the young man groaned, "ah, how rude of me, Charles Armand, comte and new owner of this massive mess."

"Indeed," Erik said, eyeing his offered hand. With a small grimace he reached out and shook it, "Erik…Sabina."

"Ah, a pleasure I'm sure."

"Indeed," Erik replied, "may I ask how you came into ownership of this estate?"

"Certainly. My father recently passed away and left it to me. Just like the bastard too. Pardon me, we didn't get along very well."

"I see…" Erik replied, trailing off as he looked over the house again.

"Something caught your eye?"

"I was simply thinking," Erik replied, "this house could be quite beautiful, with a bit of time and effort."

"Yes, well until I can find an architect it will remain as is," Armand sighed, "unfortunately I do not know any and have not been in the country long enough to have heard of any good ones."

"A shame," Erik replied, "what if I were to tell you of an architect, Monsieur?"

"Do you know any?" the young man demanded.

"You could say that," Erik replied, "I never told you my profession, Monsieur. I am in fact an architect, among other things."

"Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows, "well then it seems I am in luck. An architect…truly?"

"Truly."

"And would I be so lucky as to find that you are looking for work?"

"It so happens that I am," Erik replied.

"Splendid!" the young man exclaimed, clapping Erik on the back.

"Indeed," Erik ground out through gritted teeth, "please, do not do that."

"Pardon me, I was just rather excited. Still, may I ask you for a few examples of your work?"

"Of course, I would expect nothing less."

"Wonderful…hmm, I suppose that would require an appointment. How about three days from now, at the Café Bleu at noon."

"Café Bleu," Erik repeated, "yes, that will be fine."

"Very good, I will see you then, Monsieur Sabina."

Erik nodded his head and led his horse away from the building. It was time he moved on, started something new for himself. He had already grown tired of the small farmhouse and the close quarters. They were not something he would miss.

Christine watched as the countryside trundled past, Raoul sitting across from her in the carriage. She had finally agreed to the visit, despite the feeling of foreboding. Given the time Raoul was able to stay for a few days, and then she would return to Paris alongside him.

------------------------

"Thank you for doing this, Christine," he said, "it means a lot to me."

"I know," she replied.

Raoul smiled and kissed her cheek before turning his attention to the passing countryside. He was very sweet at time, though he proved that he could be equally persistent.

Upon arrival the countess greeted them warmly and thanked them for coming. Christine could only offer a weak smile in return. She truly didn't like Raoul's mother, or his father for that matter. They were friendly and kind to her, but she could see the dislike lurking just below the surface, far more evident in the comtesse.

"You are looking far better than when we last met," she commented over tea, "are you feeling better, dear?"

"I guess so," Christine replied.

"That is good, I am glad to hear it."

"Thank you."

It was true, she had been feeling better as of late. With Antoinette working her and Meg didn't need to do as much, though Meg was already talking of auditioning for a spot at the _Variétés. _Christine had to admit that it was tempting, she had missed dancing over the past weeks.

The days passed slowly in the country, but Christine didn't mind. She found that being able to spend time with Raoul was comforting. They went for rides in the fields and had picnic by the pond. Meg had been right, it would have been romantic, if it weren't for the comtesse constantly looming in the background.

"I had a good time," Christine admitted as they prepared to leave, "thank you for letting come, Madame."

"It was no trouble at all," she replied with a cold smile, "please try to come again, you still seem a bit pale."

"Of course," Christine replied, "thank you again."

"Come, Little Lotte," Raoul said, "we don't want to return too late."

Raoul gave his mother a hug before leading her to the carriage. When they climbed in he gave a small sigh and smiled at her.

"I'm do glad you came, Christine. I love you so much, you know that."

"I know," Christine replied, "and it was fun."

"I'm glad you thought so," Raoul replied a bit distantly, "Meg told me that you were thinking of trying for the _Théâtre des Variétés_. Is that true?"

"Yes, Madame got a job there and thought that she could get us in," Christine replied, "I'd love to be able to dance again. I really miss it."

"I see…" Raoul sighed, eyes dropping, "well then, I wish you luck."

Christine smiled at him, she knew that her dancing would definitely be looked down upon by his parents. But she wasn't willing to give up what she loved just to impress them. Besides, she knew Raoul would never want her to be unhappy, so he would never say anything.

-----------------------------

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews so far, I really appreciate them, and if you are reading this story and not reviewing please do, I would really appreciate it. Anyways, I'll update again soon... sooner if there are some lovely reviews to encourage me.**


	11. Part Two

Part Two

XI

"Leaving?" Colette asked, words hanging in the air while Erik calmly finished a sketch.

"Yes, leaving," he repeated, "or did you not hear me the first three times?"

"You cannot leave," Colette gasped, "where do you plan to go?"

Erik heaved a sigh and turned to face her, "Paris."

"But you-"

"I can and I will return!" Erik snapped, "I am in no danger living in the cursed city. Besides, I grow weary of the country. There is very little to do and much time in which not to do it."

Colette paused, as if trying to decipher exactly what he meant. She then shook her head, "And what do you intend to do in Paris?"

Erik lifted a paper from his desk and handed it to her. Colette took it and studied it for a moment, intrical designs for a house, with a small nod she placed it back on the desk where Erik dragged it back onto a small pile.

"Architect?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied irritably.

"And what brought on such a sudden decision?"

"It wasn't sudden at all," he replied, squinting at the page before him, "in fact it has been a long time coming."

"When are you going?"

"I have a meeting in Paris in two days, I will be leaving then."

"And you have a place to stay?"

"You are bothering me, please leave."

-----------------------

Erik made sure to pack all of his belongings the night before he left, ensuring that he left nothing behind in the attic room. Fleur offered her help, which resulted in a long string of questions and very little helping. The next morning he ate breakfast and prepared to leave.

"You sure you'll be alright?" Colette asked as he carefully balanced the saddlebags on the black stallion.

"Yes," he replied irritably, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"You know of a place to stay then and have everything you need?"

"Yes, I do and yes I have," Erik snapped, "now would you stop with all these pointless questions?"

"You gonna come visit us, right?" Fleur asked.

Erik bit back a sarcastic remark and nodded his head, "Fine, I'll visit."

"Yay!" Fleur exclaimed hugging his legs, "you promise?"

"Fine."

Colette smiled and reached out to pat his arm, only to have it pulled away. She gave a small sigh and shook her head, "Good luck then."

"I won't need it," he replied, "but thank you, if for nothing else, then for saving my miserable life."

"Of course, good bye, Erik."

Upon arriving in Paris Erik found an inn to stay in until he could find a house and rented a room. It was a nice enough place, so he left his things there, took his portfolio and left to fine the Café Bleu that his meeting was to be held at.

"You're late," the young man informed him when he sat down.

"Am I?" Erik asked, glancing at a clock, "so it would seem."

The young man raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat, "I've already ordered us some lunch, I hope that is alright with you."

"Fine," Erik replied.

"Very well then, may I see those designs you promised me?"

Erik shrugged and took out a few of the designs he had worked on over the past few years. He didn't think them very spectacular, but they were good and by the look on the young man's face he seemed impressed.

"These are very good!" he exclaimed as their lunch arrived, "I am impressed, yes, very impressed."

"Thank you," Erik replied dryly, "I am glad you like them."

"Don't sound so thrilled," Charles Armand laughed.

Erik just stared at him and gave a small shrug, "They really aren't that impressive."

"Modest, aren't you?"

"Am I?"

"Well, I must say that with the evidence you have presented me I am more than willing to hire you to aid in the reconstruction of my new estate. What do you say?"

"I say that you are fortunate enough to have hired the best architect in all of France," Erik replied silkily.

Armand just smiled and offered his hand, "Very well then. How long will it take to finish the designs?"

"As long as it takes," Erik replied, hesitantly shaking the man's hand, "I would have to see the original designs and visit the estate to properly assess the amount of work needed."

"That is easily enough accomplished," he replied, digging out several rolled up pieces of paper, "here they are now, I trust you will find them all in order."

Erik raised his eyebrow and unrolled one of the papers, "My, my, you certainly are presumptuous, aren't you?"

"Optimistic," he corrected.

"Very well then, I will visit the estate on my own time. I hope that does not offend you?"

"Not at all."

Erik offered a small bow and stood up and left the café, turning back when he was called.

"You haven't touched your food!"

"I am not hungry, Monsieur, but thank you. It was very…considerate of you. Good afternoon, Monsieur Armand. I will be speaking with you again soon

----------------------------

**A/N: Well a bit of a short chapter, but hopefully enjoyable. Please leave me some reviews to read for I do love them so. Ergo, if you are reading review...even if you don't like it. I can take criticism!**


	12. XII

XII

Christine chased Meg out of the theatre, smile on her face as they exited into the warm night air. The ground was damp, showing that it had been raining while they were inside, but they didn't care. Instead they hurried through the puddles, trying to catch the omnibus so they wouldn't have to walk all the way home. They barely caught it.

"That was fun," Meg laughed, "I haven't been on stage in so long, I'd forgotten how much I missed it!"

"Me too," Christine said, remembering her last time on stage. She swallowed and tried to hide her blush at the memory.

"I'm tired though," Meg admitted, "we spent so much time off that I'd forgotten how hard rehearsals could be."

"I know, but at least we have enough money now to hire a maid. Its nice that Madame doesn't have to do everything anymore."

"I know, she was working so hard, I felt bad," Meg agreed.

Once back at the house the two ate a hurried meal before sitting down in the comfort of the parlour. They knew that Antoinette would be home soon, and didn't want her to worry over them eating when she got there. So when the door opened and closed they stopped talking and called their greeting.

"We're in here!" Meg called.

"Ah, you did very well tonight, I am proud of you two. You have worked very hard."

"Thank you," Christine replied, "we already ate, there's some supper in the kitchen for you."

"Merci, but you two should be going to bed soon. You've had a busy day."

"Alright," they agreed, but once she was in the kitchen they went back to talking.

"Aren't you supposed to be going out with Raoul tomorrow night?" Meg asked.

"Yes, he's invited me to a dinner with some friends. I'm a bit nervous, truthfully."

"Why?"

"I always feel a bit out of place in his world," Christine admitted, "with all the extravagant dresses and jewellery I feel a bit plain."

"Well you're not," Meg insisted, "you're just as good as any of them!"

"I know," Christine yawned, "mmm, I think its time for bed."

"Agreed, I'm exhausted. Good night, Maman!"

"Good night girls, have a good sleep."

The next day Christine went to the theatre and returned home to have a bath and get ready for the dinner with Raoul's friends. He assured her that his friend was very friendly, stating cheerfully that he had just recently been married and that his wife was a nice woman, though he had only met her once.

"Here we are," he announced as the carriage jerked to a stop.

"It's a nice house," Christine commented.

"A bit small though," Raoul added, "but he has just returned to France, come you'll like him."

It turned out that Raoul was telling the truth. A young man, perhaps a year or so older than him opened the door and smiled warmly at them, "Well I am glad you could come!"

"Charles," Raoul greeted, shaking his hand's friend and giving him a half hug, "it is good to see you again, my friend."

"You as well, and who is this beautiful young woman."

"Christine Daae," Christine murmured.

"Charmed," he replied, kissing her hand enthusiastically, "come in, come in. My wife, Danielle, will be down in a moment. Ah, here she is right now."

A young woman came down the stairs and gave a faint smile. She was beautiful, with straight dark brown hair and deep brown eyes. She was wearing a dark green dress and seemed a bit shy.

"Danielle come and meet my good friend, Raoul de Chagny and Mademoiselle Christine Daae."

"Its very nice to meet you," she said quietly, allowing Raoul to kiss her hand, "I believe dinner is ready, so if you'd follow me to the dining room."

Raoul and Charles spent most of the meal talking, while Christine and Danielle watched and listened. Neither really knew each other and Christine didn't feel very comfortable talking with her. Compared with her husband Danielle seemed terribly reserved.

"A dancer?" Charles asked suddenly, turning to Christine.

"Oh…yes," she replied nervously, "I'm dancing at the _Variétés."_

"Well that's nice," he replied honestly, "I can't say I know many dancers. How long have you been dancing?"

"I started training when I was seven," Christine replied, "but I took some time off because-"

"Ah yes, that whole affair with the Opera Populaire," Charles interrupted, "yes, I read all about it. Sounds truly terrifying."

"Not so much," Christine replied, "they dramatized it a bit, I'm afraid."

"Of course they did, they're the press," he laughed, "still, there was a lot of damage caused by the chandelier crash."

"I guess so," Christine sighed.

The evening finished with good byes and wishes to visit again. Christine actually found herself wishing to visit with them again. Once they had moved to the parlour her and Danielle had started to talk, and she found that she liked the other woman.

"There, was that so terrible?" Raoul teased once they were in the carriage.

"No," Christine replied, "he seems like a very nice person."

"Oh he is," Raoul agreed, "always has been, though a bit much at times. He lived in France until he was twelve, then his parents went over to England and lived there for several years. Charles always preffered France though, so when his parents passed away, leaving him a fair sum of money and the estate, he quickly returned to the country."

"Really?" Christine asked, "but, if he has an estate then why are they living in that house?"

Raoul gave a small laugh, "Because the place is a mess. It hasn't been lived in for years and wasn't in that good a condition before that. He mentioned that it was being repaired and some changes were to be made."

"Yes, Danielle said something of it," Christine murmured, "that he hired an architect to design it, and that they've just started on the repairs."

"Hmm, well is was always like Charles to move quickly," Raoul chuckled, "only just married and already busily working on a new estate. My father would love his ambition."

Christine gave a little nod before lapsing into silence. She would have to work the next day, though she found that she didn't mind it. Her and Meg were not official members of the chorus, though they had already performed in it once. Still, they needed to attend practises, and were also helping Antoinette teach some on the younger dancers.

"Here we are," Raoul murmured, opening the door to the street outside their flat.

"Good night, Raoul," she said as he walked her to the door.

"Good night," he agreed, "I'll see you again as soon as I can."

"I know," she replied, recalling that he was to be out of the city for a few days.

He leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss. She just smiled and went inside. With him it was always gentle kisses and delicate embraces. It was as if he thought her a fragile bird, that wouldn't be able to withstand anything more.

"You're home?" Antoinette asked from the parlour.

"Yes," she murmured, "I was just going to bed."

"Me also," she sighed, "good night, my dear."

"Good night."


	13. XIII

XIII

Erik growled in frustration as he swept through the work site. It was hot, the sun had been beating down all day and with all the windows and doors in the house open or not yet installed it was impossible to escape from it.

"Sabina!" Armand called, beaming at him. Erik barely suppressed a groan, the young man seemed to enjoy visiting the site and trying to make conversation with him.

"Armand," he replied, reluctantly approaching his employer, "what brings you out here today?"

"Curiosity," he replied, "well, its coming along quite nicely, wouldn't you agree?"

"Indeed," Erik replied, running his hand through his hair and down to scratch the back of his neck.

"You look tired, Sabina," Armand commented, "you work too hard, I've been told you're here everyday before and after everyone else leaves. You're here every time I come!"

"I prefer it that way," Erik replied.

"Like to keep busy, eh?"

"Something to that effect," Erik sighed, "I must go, I have business to attend to."

"Oh, well then I'll see you later. Have a good day!"

For the next three days the heat continued to be nearly unbearable, at least in Erik's mind. He had become accustomed to the coolness of his lair over the years and the heat was making him irritable.

"Still looking good," Armand said cheerfully, "how long would you say until completion?"

"I don't know," Erik snapped, running his hand around the edges of his mask, "a week, perhaps."

"Splendid! I was planning on holding a party when it is completed. A celebration, you know?"

"Indeed," Erik snorted, "God, this heat is unbearable!"

Armand gave him a curious stare as he ran a hand irritably over his mask and through his hair. He was wearing only his shirtsleeves, rolled up past his elbows, but it didn't seem to help.

"What?" Erik snapped.

"Nothing," Armand replied.

Erik snorted and glared at an old candelabra that stood before him. With a low growl he lashed out and kicked it, sending it clattering to the floor and sliding several feet. Armand just laughed and shook his head.

"I never liked," Erik muttered.

"No, me either," Armand agreed, "why don't you take out it's partner as well?"

Erik let out a harsh laugh when the man motioned to the other candelabra and shook his head. The thought was actually quite tempting, though he decided against it. He would at least try to act like a civilized person.

"So, I hear that there was a small accident last night?" Armand asked.

"Hmm, one of those idiotic workers made a mistake, nothing too serious," Erik replied, picking up a small piece of masonry, "though more than a bit frustrating."

"I can imagine," Armand replied, "though I've heard you corrected him rather quickly."

"Ah, you heard," Erik stated, tossing the masonry up into the air.

"Well workers to tend to complain when pieces of stone are thrown at their heads."

"I intentionally missed," Erik replied.

"Oh, and that makes it alright?"

Erik shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and tossed the piece of masonry at the far wall. It zipped past a worker's head and exploded into a few smaller pieces before falling to the floor. The worker gave him a nervous look and hurried on it's way, just as a young woman entered through the front doors.

"Danielle!" Armand exclaimed, a wide smile cracking his features, "Sabina, I wish you to meet someone."

Erik gave a small sigh and followed him forwards to the young woman. She was pretty, he noted, straight dark hair with dark eyes, dressed in a deep green dress. Armand beamed as he greeted her, and placed a small kiss on her lips.

"Danielle, I would like you to meet Monsieur Erik Sabina," Armand said, "the architect I hired to restore this place."

"A pleasure," she said, offering her hand.

Erik took it and grazed his lips over her knuckles, "Indeed."

"Sabina, this is my wife," he informed him, "Danielle."

"Ah," Erik replied, "then it is indeed a pleasure."

"Would it not have been otherwise?" Armand asked.

Erik gave a wry smile and shrugged his shoulders, "Perhaps."

"You're a strange man," Armand teased, "now I'm afraid I must be on my way, Danielle and I are to go to lunch."

"Have a pleasant time," Erik sighed, "perhaps I will leave as well."

"Why doesn't Monsieur Sabina join us?" Danielle asked quietly.

"A splendid idea! What do you say, Sabina?"

Erik gave a small sigh and contemplated it for a moment. He wasn't very hungry, and the prospect of being forced to spend more time with the exuberant young man than necessary pained him slightly. Still, he knew it would be rude to decline without a proper reason.

"I'm not feeling very well," he said at length.

"Its probably from working all day in this heat without eating," Armand suggested, "you should come, it might make you feel better."

"I…hmm, fine."

"Why don't we go to that small café?" Danielle asked.

"Splendid idea, my dear," Armand replied, "I'm sure you'll enjoy it, Sabina, its quite lovely."

"How nice," he replied dryly.

The café was nice, and they took a seat outside, so they were able to watch the other people walking by, talking amongst themselves or hurrying to their next destination. Erik found that watching people could be interesting, he had done it enough at the theatre and had learned how to judge people.

Danielle and Charles were busy talking while he stared at the passers by. An unhappy couple, a man who was obviously late for something, and quite upset over it, a woman who, though she tried to hide it, was sad about something, perhaps the loss of a loved one. He took a sip of his coffee and allowed a wry smile to grace his lips as a mother walked by, trying desperately to control her two young boys.

"Something amusing?" Charles asked.

"No," he replied quietly.

"You were smiling," he pointed out, "you must have seen something that you thought was funny."

Erik raised his eyebrow and gave a small shrug, "And if I did?"

Charles just shrugged and went back to talking with his wife. Erik found that it suited him well, he didn't want to talk with them. He was perfectly content to watch the passing throngs. He sipped his coffee and frowned as he watched a happy young couple pass by.

"What do you think, Sabina?" Charles asked suddenly, snapping Erik back to reality.

"About what?" he asked irritably.

"Danielle wanted to purchase a crimson dress for the party," Sabina informed him, "I thought it would be too bland."

"Red?" Erik repeated.

"Yes, red. And I told her that is would be too dark. I was thinking a light green, or a yellow perhaps. What do you think?"

Erik furrowed his brow and tapped his fingers against the side of his coffee cup, "Purple, I think. Though not a dark colour, more of a violet. Something nice and light, given the season."

"You think?" Danielle asked, "I hadn't though of that."

Erik shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of coffee, "That is merely my opinion."

"And how is it that an architect would know about women's fashion?" Charles asked.

"How indeed," Erik said, downing the rest of his coffee.

"Violet," Danielle repeated, "yes, I think that would be quite nice."

Erik drummed his fingers against the side of his cup again before allowing one to trace the edge of the mask as a small frown creased his brow. With the recent heat he found the piece of leather rather uncomfortable, and wanted nothing more than to be able to rid himself of it.

"Is it uncomfortable?" Danielle asked suddenly, "the mask, I mean."

"Danielle," Charles hissed, "that is rude."

"No," Erik found himself saying, "its alright, I would rather she simply asked. Truthfully, in this weather, it is somewhat uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Don't be," he said firmly, "if I cannot stand one thing, it is people feeling sorry for me."

This made her smile a bit, "Alright."

"I should be going," he muttered, getting up from the chair, "there are things that I have to do, and far too little time to do them in. Good day."

------------------

The next three days passed in a whirlwind, and when the house was finally being completed Erik wanted nothing more than to collapse into his bed and sleep. However he found that quite impossible, as Armand decided that he would visit the site and detain him with his endless banter.

"Three days," he said excitedly, "then it will all be finished, everything will be moved in and the party will take place. Is it not exciting, Sabina?"

"Truly," Erik replied dully, "I cannot wait."

"Ha! You received the invitation then?"

"Last night," Erik stated.

"And you will of course be coming?" Armand asked eagerly, "do say yes. Danielle wished to see you again."

"Truly?" Erik asked, more than a little surprised by this.

"She said she wanted to be able to talk with you more," he shrugged, "guess she found you intriguing."

"How wonderful, I'm intriguing."

Armand just laughed at that and looked around the room. Some of the furniture had already been brought to the estate, though it was all covered in a thin layer of masonry dust. The next three days would mostly consist of moving in, cleaning up and ensuring everything was in order. Something they could do without the assistance of Erik.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Armand exclaimed as Erik moved towards the door, "Danielle and I wondered if you would like to join us for supper tonight."

Erik shook his head, "I'm afraid I am not feeling very well today, so I will have to decline."

"I see, well then go home and get some rest. I want you to be in perfect health for the party, understand?"

"Indeed."

"Three days, Sabina! That's all you have to get better."

Erik didn't even bother responding. The only thing he suffered from was a serious lack of sleep, and it had taken over a week for it to catch up with him. He made his way back into the city and to the small flat he lived in.

It wasn't large, with only a parlour, kitchen, bedroom, small dining room and bathroom, but it was all he needed. There was a maid who worked there for him, for cooking and cleaning. Two things he knew that he would never do.

"You're home early," she commented as he slumped into a chair in the parlour, "humph, and brought home all that dust, eh?"

"Be quiet," he growled.

"Humph, well I made something for your dinner, not that you'll eat it. I'm leaving now, in case you were wondering."

"Not really," he replied, "good night."

She left the house with a bit of a fuss and Erik got up and went to his room. He wasn't hungry, not really at least. So instead of eating he stripped off his shoes and socks and fell into his bed, closing his eyes and giving a sigh of relief.


	14. XIV

XIV

Christine blinked at her own reflection in the mirror and bunched her hair up before frowning slightly. She let it fall again and sighed, she felt foolish for spending so much time getting ready, but she really wanted to look her best for the evening.

"Are you ready?" Antoinette asked, poking her head.

"I'm sorry," Christine sighed, "I'm taking forever, I know."

"It is fine," she smiled, "you look beautiful, my dear."

"Oh, thank you," Christine replied, glancing down at the light blue dress she was wearing. Raoul had insisted on buying it for her for the party. She hadn't objected, she liked it too much to bother with the fight.

Antoinette stepped into her room and shook her head as Christine fiddled with her hair, "Leave it down, it looks better that way."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Of course, you have lovely curls and should not put them up."

Christine laughed and quickly ran a brush thorough her thick curls, trying to neaten them before she went down to the parlour. Raoul was already there, waiting patiently for her. He smiled the second he saw her, as he always did, and kissed her had. She quickly put on a pair of white gloves that reached up to her elbows.

"Little Lotte," he murmured, "you look beautiful."

"We should go," she replied, "we'll be late."

"Its Charles," Raoul laughed, "he won't care."

"When will you be back?" Antoinette asked.

"I will not keep her too late, Madame," Raoul replied.

"Midnight," she said firmly.

"Not past one," Raoul reasoned.

"Very well, I will hold you to that, Monsieur," Christine gave a small laugh as they exited into the night air. It was surprisingly cold out that evening and she was glad when Antoinette handed her her cloak and made her put it on. She glanced up at the sky to see the stars and moon hidden by dark clouds.

"I think it may rain," Raoul commented, opening the carriage door for her and ushering her inside.

"That would be a shame," Christine murmured.

"Everything will be inside," Raoul assured her, "a little rain won't hurt anything."

Christine smiled at him as the carriage jerked forward, the clip clop of the horses hooves wringing in the night air. She was looking forward to the party, having heard much from Raoul about how thrilled he was about his new estate and the architect who had worked so hard on it.

"Will the architect be there?" she asked suddenly.

"I do not know," Raoul shrugged, "I suppose he may be there."

"Oh…I just though it would make sense," Christine murmured, "seeing as he designed it."

Raoul gave a small sigh and glanced out the window. In the distance thunder rumbled, though no rain yet fell from the sky. He then turned back to Christine and placed a small kiss on her cheek, "Charles most likely invited him."

As the estate came into view Christen couldn't help but release small gasp. It looked quite beautiful, even from a distance. Lights glowed from inside and carriages were parked outside of the front, waiting for their occupants to get out before pulling away.

"It looks lovely!" she commented.

"Yes, Charles really outdid himself," Raoul agreed

"Who will be there?" Christine asked.

"I cannot be certain, no doubt many people. Charles will want to show off his new home," Raoul chuckled, "I had thought my brother would wish to attend, but he is still in Madrid, or so I've been told."

"Your brother?" Christine asked, furrowing her brow.

"Philippe," he replied with a wave of his hand, "he's been in Madrid for the past year."

"Madrid," Christine repeated, "that's in Spain. I imagine it would be beautiful there."

"It is," Raoul replied, "we should go there, Little Lotte, once we are married."

"Oh…um, of course," Christine agreed, startled by the sudden mention of marriage, "that would be great."

The carriage jostled to a stop and the door was opened by the driver. Raoul climbed out first, offering his arm to Christine as she climbed out herself, straightening her skirts as they approached the grand estate. She already felt slightly out of place at such a large home.

They were immediately greeted by servant, who took their cloaks and coats before leading them from the foyer through to the grand ballroom. Everything in the house seemed to dazzle as they passed, shined to perfection for anyone to see. The ballroom was amazing, with gorgeous marble flooring and a high ceiling from which a small chandelier hung.

Guests were already milling in the room, dancing or talking amongst themselves. For a moment Christine felt her head spin at the sight of so many strangers, each one high ranking in society, with the latest fashions and the most expensive jewellery.

"Charles wasn't lying," Raoul muttered, "whoever it was he hired did a truly amazing job."

"There are so many people," Christine said, more to herself than Raoul.

"Come, Christine, there are some old friends here," Raoul said, taking her hand, "they'll be glad to meet you. Besides I must find Charles, to congratulate him."

Charles was not hard to find, in fact the moment that he saw them he hurried over, beaming at them. Raoul gave a small laugh as his friend approached.

"Monsieur de Chagny, Mademoiselle Daae," Charles laughed, "so glad you could make it."

"Monsieur Armand," Raoul replied, giving a small mock bow, "it was something we could not miss. What a splendid house, you weren't kidding when you spoke of your architect's skills."

"Of course not, he is a genius! Ah, Miss Daae, my wife was asking about you a few moments ago. I believe she wishes to speak with you again."

"Oh, where is she?"

"Here," Danielle said, coming up beside her husband, "its nice to see you both again. How have you been?"

"Quite well," Raoul replied, kissing her hand.

"Charles," Danielle said, touching her husband's arm, "have you seen Monsieur Sabina?"

"Oh, he said something about a drink," Charles replied, "he seemed a bit overwhelmed by everything. Poor devil, he's a bit shy."

"You didn't drag him around, introducing him to everyone, did you?" Danielle asked.

"Well, yes, but he seemed fine," Charles muttered, "I mean, as fine as he can be. I tell you he is impossible to read!"

"Where did you say he was?" Danielle asked, gazing through the crowd.

"Drink table, I think," Charles replied, "ah yes, I can see him. Ha! Raoul, you should meet him."

"I guess," Raoul replied, shrugging his shoulders and stealing a quick kiss from Christine.

"Wonderful. Sabina!" Charles shouted, waving his hand in the air, "Sabina! Come here man!"

Christine couldn't help but smile at the way Charles called over the architect. After a few seconds he gave an annoyed shake of his head.

"He certainly is taking his time."

Christine just smiled, "Maybe its because of all the…"

She trailed off as the man Charles had been calling appeared before her, as if from no where. His dark form stood over her, a threatening reminder of the past, the stark white mask immediately giving away his identity.

"Raoul," Charles said, "I would like you to meet Erik Sabina. Sabina, this is an old friend of mine, Raoul de Chagny."

"A pleasure," came the rumbling reply, "Monsieur de Chagny."

Raoul seemed frozen for a moment, eyes wide with an unspoken fear. Within a moment though that fear was gone, and he stuck out his hand, fear replaced with angry defiance.

"And of course," Charles said, motioning towards Christine, "the lovely Miss Daae."

Christine felt herself pale when those murky eyes were turned towards her, and noticed the battle raging within them. She swallowed hard, trying to moisten her dry throat. With a deep breath she held out her hand and gave a weak smile, "A-a pleasure, Monsieur Sabina."

He glanced down at her hand and she wondered whether he would accept the gesture. Then, very carefully, he placed his fingers gently under hers and leaned forward, brushing his lips over her knuckles.

"It's a pleasure," he said, eyes clearly focussed elsewhere, "to see you."

"Of course," she breathed.

"Raoul was just telling me how he liked the house," Charles was saying, "and-"

"I have to go," Erik rasped, turning gracefully on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.

"Wait!" Christine gasped, staring at the place where he had been.

"That was strange," Charles said, "I've never seen him-"

Christine didn't hear the rest of what he was saying as she quickly made her way through the crowd, after the man she had just seen before her. She didn't even fully why, but she didn't want him to leave, not before she had the chance to talk with her.

She fled the ballroom and hurried back down the hall to the front door, where she caught him with his hand on the door. She tried to call out, but found her voice lost in her throat. She hastened her steps and tried to find her voice.

"Wait!" she called quietly. He froze and she let out a small sigh, "Don't go!"

----------------------------

**A/N: So, I dragged myself out of bed this morning and managed to get to school on time. It was painful, but hey it is a necessary evil...or so they tell me. Anyways here is a chapter, please review it as I need to boost in my spirits!**


	15. XV

**XV**

Erik stared at the ceiling as he lay on his bed. He could hear the maid bustling around the house, cleaning or cooking or doing whatever it was she did. He had never really cared, but knew that without her the house would never be cleaned and he would never eat.

Sunlight was now clearly shining through the thin curtain and he let out a small sigh. He really had no will to rise, knowing that later he was to attend the party his employer was holding. Still he also knew that he couldn't simply lay in bed all day, as tempting as it sounded.

So he got up and dressed before heading out the front door, with the maid calling something after him. She often did that, the woman never seemed truly happy with either his appearance or his habit of skipping meals.

The day was nice enough, though the air seemed a bit heavy, and he walked through the streets until he came to a small café. He paused there for a moment, turning over a coin in his pocket. He hadn't eaten in nearly two days now, and a cup of coffee sounded good. So he found a seat outside and ordered some coffee and a croissant.

It was strange, he decided, that he could sit outside and watch the world go by with a sense of peace. He knew that only weeks earlier the prospect would have terrified him. It still did, somewhat. People did look, some stared, others merely gave him a curious glance.

He had just finished his coffee when a familiar voice wrenched him from his thoughts. When he looked up he gave a small smirk as Antoinette Giry stood over him, staring him down with cool eyes.

"Good day, Madame Giry," he greeted, "and how are you?"

"When did you return to Paris?" she asked, a touch of what sounded like fear in her voice.

Erik gave a small shrug, "Several weeks ago, I believe."

"Is that so?" she asked, "and did you ever plan on telling me of your return?"

Erik tilted his head slightly, "I did not think you would care, Madame."

She gave an exasperated sigh and sat opposite him, "Would not care? And why would you think that?"

"Why should you?" he asked, staring at his empty cup, "after all I did, Madame, why would anybody care?"

She gave a small laugh and shook her head, "Because, Erik, I have always cared, even when you did things I thought wrong. I do not think that I ever stopped caring or worrying over you. Even near the end."

"I hear that you have found a job," he said, quickly changing the subject, "I am glad of that."

"Merci, and you? What are you doing now? I cannot believe that you would be in Paris simply to enjoy the city."

"I was hired as an architect to help restore the Armand estate," he replied, "nothing too difficult, but something to keep me occupied."

"Ah, the one outside of the city?"

"Correct."

"Hmm, have you ever thought of working for a firm?" she asked.

"Could you possibly see me in an office, Madame?" he asked, giving her a curious look.

"I don't suppose I could," she laughed, "I must go, I have things to do. Have a good day, Erik. Perhaps I will see you again."

"Perhaps," he agreed, standing as well, "I was actually on my way as well."

They left the café and turned opposite ways on the street, bidding their final farewells. Erik paused for a second, wondering if Antoinette would know anything of how Christine was faring, but quickly purged the thought from his mind. He couldn't think about her, he wouldn't. He would let her be, she would be married, and then she would be happy.

------------------------------

When night finally approached Erik returned to his house and got ready for the evening. The maid, of course, complained when he didn't eat. But he quickly silenced her by slamming the door to the bathroom. Slamming doors always seemed to work to one's advantage.

He shaved, changed into his formal wear and replaced his mask with a cleaner one. A final look in the mirror ensured he looked exactly as he wanted. Dark hair slicked back, cravat straight, everything clean.

"Well," the maid trilled, "you clean up better than I expected."

"I do not pay you to talk," he replied sharply. She just clucked her tongue and went back into the kitchen.

-------------------------------

The house looked spectacular from the outside, and when he went in he was surprised at how well the hired help had done in cleaning it. He had very little time to look though, as Armand seemed to have been waiting for him, ready to pounce the second he was in the front hall.

"Sabina," he said warmly, "well, well, you clean up nice. Would you look at this place? Its gorgeous."

"Good evening, Monsieur Armand."

"Cheerful tonight, aren't we?" he asked, "come now, Sabina, at least try to take pleasure In this. After all, it could never have happened without you."

Erik made a small noise in the back of his throat, not caring to acknowledge that fact as he was led to the ballroom. He froze as they entered, eyes sweeping over the large crowd. He felt almost ill at the prospect of being forced into it, and swallowed hard against the feeling.

"Glorious, no?" Charles asked, misinterpreting his reaction.

"Uh-" he was cut off before he could finish his train of thought.

"Chaunce," Charles exclaimed, "come along, Sabina, there are some people I want you to meet."

And there were, many people in fact. It seemed as if he knew a never ending stream of people and wished to introduce him to every single one. A flurry of names and faces flashed by, none that he would ever remember. By what seemed like the millionth face Erik felt quite overwhelmed and uncomfortable.

"Guy, I would like you to meet my dear friend, and amazing architect, Monsieur Sabina," Charles announced.

"Pardon me," Erik said, offering a small bow, "but I think I will get a drink."

"Oh…well fine," Charles said to the retreating back, "if you must."

Erik didn't bother with a drink; he simply stood off to the side of the room, grateful to be away from the strange faces and curious looks. People were everywhere in the room, talking, drinking and dancing. Everyone seemed so happy, Charles certainly seemed happy.

This wasn't his world, and he knew that. He didn't like the closeness of the guests, the way they chatted and laughed together. On the streets it was different, just another stranger mixed in with the faces of more strangers. Here he felt very out of place.

A few people passed by him, casting curious glances at eh man dressed all in black with the white mask, but no one tried to approach him. Something he found quite acceptable. He was just deciding whether to leave the ballroom and explore the rest of the house when he heard his name being called. He glanced up to see Charles waving him over.

"So this is hell," he mused, taking up one of the glasses and downing its contents, "I thought it would be warmer."

Slowly he made his way over to where his employer stood, taking his time navigating through the crowds, not wanting to have to meet another couple. He was quite tired of shaking hands, despising the physical contact and was even more tired of the stares his mask received.

He stepped forward and first noticed Danielle standing there. He was about to greet her when Charles spoke, "Raoul, I would like you to meet Erik Sabina. Sabina, this is an old friend of mine, Raoul de Chagny."

Erik thought for a moment that his heart had stopped, and then became painfully aware that that could not be true, as it hammered almost painfully against his ribs.

"A pleasure," he replied, surprising himself with the clarity of his voice, "Monsieur de Chagny."

He could see the fear in the boy's eyes, a fear which was quickly replaced with angry defiance. He stuck out his hand and Erik shook it, grasping it far harder than necessary.

"And of course," Charles said, motioning towards Christine, "the lovely Miss Daae."

She paled when he looked at her, something he didn't find overly surprising. By now his heart was thundering loudly in his ears and he didn't really hear what she said. But she held her hand out expectantly. He glanced down at it and very gently rested his gloved fingers under her own, grazing his lips over her knuckles.

"A pleasure to see you," he murmured, his voice still surprisingly clear, though much softer than he would have liked.

---------------------------

He couldn't look at her and focussed his gaze elsewhere as Charles continued to talk. His heart seemed to have reached a fevered rhythm and his head felt oddly light. He knew he couldn't stay and quickly searched for a way out.

"I have to go," he finally said, his voice harsh as he turned gracefully on his heel and dove back into the crowd.

He made his way quickly through the crowd and towards the front door, heart thundering in his chest the entire time. He had never once, tried to fool himself with the thought of being over her; he had just prayed that he would not meet her again until he had better control over himself.

-------------------------

He heard footsteps behind him as his hand grasped the doorknob. He was almost free when her voice called out.

"Wait!" she said, voice soft but strong, "don't go!"

He froze then and let out a small sigh. He couldn't do this, he wouldn't and willed himself to turn the handle, open the door and flee into the night. But his hand wouldn't move, no matter how much he willed it to.

"Erik?" she asked uncertainly, still unsure of the strange name.

"Yes, Mademoiselle?" he asked, hand still on the doorknob.

"Don't go," she repeated, "please, not yet."

"I do not feel well," he informed her, "it would be best if I just left."

"No!" she gasped, grabbing onto his sleeve, "please, I don't want-"

"I do not feel well," he repeated, more trying to convince himself than anything else.

"You feel fine," she found herself saying.

His eyes trailed down to where her hand grasped his sleeve, "Please let go."

She shook her head, despite the trace of desperation in his voice.

"Let go," he repeated, pleading with her now as footsteps sounded from the hallway, "please!"

"Is something wrong?" Armand asked, coming around the corner with Danielle at his heels.

"Let go, Christine," Erik said, anger slowly replacing the desperation.

"Why do you want to leave?" Christine asked.

"Sabina, is something wrong?" Armand asked.

"I said let go!" Erik snarled, tearing his sleeve from her grasp.

She gave a small gasp and stepped back as he whirled around and tore open the door, stepping out into the cool night. He had barely made it two steps when a loud crack of thunder broke through the air as the heavens opened up and a downpour began.

"Oh, you are cruel!" Erik bellowed, glaring at the sky.

Christine took a tentative step onto the porch, "Erik?"

"Leave me alone," he replied harshly.

"Sabina, come back inside!" Armand called as Erik strode forward and into the rain, "Sabina!"

He paused then and visibly sighed, his shoulders rising and falling in an exhausted manner. Christine stepped forwards to the edge of the porch and watched as the rain hammered against his shadowy form.

"Monsieur?" Danielle questioned, "you're getting soaked, come inside before you catch your death."

"Wouldn't that be terrible?" Erik asked dully, voice barely audible over the rain and rumble of thunder.

"Sabina, you are being a fool," Armand said, completely exasperated by the man.

"Erik," Christine said gently, stepping into the rain, "Angel?"

"Do not call me that!" he snapped.

"You're getting drenched," she reasoned, "please come back…"

He didn't move and kept his back towards them, stiff and straight, shoulders drawn back defiantly. Then, as if a great weight had been placed upon them, they sank and he bowed his head slightly.

Christine stepped forward again, into the full torrent of the rain, and placed her hand gently on his back, causing his muscles to tense as if expecting something terrible. When nothing came they relaxed slightly.

"Sabina!" Charles shouted, "for God's sake, get over here. Miss Daae will be drenched."

"Come inside," Christine said softly, "please, before you make yourself ill."

It took a moment before he turned his face towards her, and she could see the tears standing in his eyes even through the rain. Those eyes seemed to hold in them his every emotion and she was reminded of a time when Meg had told her that the eyes were the window to the soul. She decided then that he must have a very troubled soul.

"Finally!" Charles exclaimed when they stepped back under the safely of the overhang.

"Shush!" Danielle said, "come inside, both of you, you need to get warm and dry."

She led them into the house and called for a maid to make some tea and meet them in one of the rooms. The maid nodded and scurried off as Danielle led them towards a small parlour where a fire was dancing merrily it its hearth.

"Please have a seat," she said, "I've sent for some towels, though they may not be much help."

Christine sat first, thanking Danielle for her thoughtfulness while Erik hung in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame. He passed a hand over his face as if exhausted and leaned his head into his hand, eyes closed.

"Monsieur?" Danielle asked, concern filling her voice.

"I'm fine," he assured her.

"Sit down," she said; motioning to an empty chair, "I will be right back. I just need to check on something."

Erik took the seat as she left the room and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He could feel Christine's eyes upon him, but didn't want to face them. He couldn't face them, so he leaned forward and placed his head in his hands, running them momentarily through his hair in a flustered manner.

"Erik?" she asked, very quietly and more to herself than him, "so, you had a name?"

**-----------------------------**

**A/N: Okay, long chapter but hopefully a good one...reviews? I thoroughly thank those of you who are faithfully reviewing my story, you know who you are, and give you cookies (hands out cookies). As for those of you reading and not reviewing. Review! Even if you hate it, tell me you hate it... questions, comments, confesions of undying love, I'll accept anything. Or maybe I will not provide such frequent updates until I get a few more of them (wicked smile)...think about it.**


	16. XVI

XVI

The silence stretched out until Danielle re-entered the room. By then Erik had taken his face out of his hands, and had instead steepled his fingers, and was resting them firmly against his mouth.

"I have some towels," she said, handing one to Christine, "though I doubt they will help much. I wish I had something more to offer."

"Its fine," Christine replied, "you've just moved in."

"Monsieur?" Danielle asked, trying to pry Erik's gaze away from the floor, "would you care to dry off a bit?"

He didn't look up right away, instead staring at the floor with an odd intensity. It was as if he expected to find some answer in it, if he could only watch it for long enough. Then, as if she had just asked he took the offered towel with a small nod of his head, though he did nothing with it.

"Dry off," Danielle repeated, as tea was brought it, "if you stay wet you will just get sick."

Truthfully it didn't seem at all possible to dry off, though Christine did try, using the towel to get most of the moisture from her hair and a bit from her dress. Erik didn't really care if he was wet, and simply held the towel in his hand.

"Do you take anything in your tea?" Danielle asked, trying to be a good hostess.

"No," Christine replied, "its fine plain."

Danielle nodded and handed her a cup of tea, which Christine took a sip of. The warm liquid felt good and she settled back in the chair slightly.

"Monsieur Sabina, do you take anything?" Danielle asked.

"Pardon?" he murmured, seemingly just realizing that anyone was in the room, "oh…no I don't."

Danielle handed his the cup, which he accepted, though it did little other than warm his hands. The towel had been dropped on the floor.

"Well," Charles said, entering the room, "how is everyone in here?"

"A bit damp, but fine," Danielle assured him.

"Very good," Charles said, clapping his hands together, "now, who would care to explain all this? I can tell you, Raoul seems a bit upset over the entire event."

"Where is he?" Erik asked, startling everyone with his sudden question.

"In the ballroom," Charles replied, a small frown creasing his brow, "with an old friend, actually."

This seemed to satisfy Erik, who went back to staring at his teacup. Charles merely shrugged his shoulders and went over to his wife, placing a gently kiss upon her lips. Then he turned to face his two guests and gave a small sigh.

"So, Sabina, would you care to explain this little incident. I cannot say I know many people to waltz into downpours for no apparent reason."

Erik glared at him, "No, I would not."

"Drink your tea," Danielle said.

With an irritated sigh he swallowed the contents in one gulp, scorching his throat and causing him to cough. Charles gave a small laugh and Erik couldn't help but feel he deserved it. He had truly acted like an idiot.

"That wasn't very wise," Charles informed him, "and, might I add, neither were your actions."

"Really? Personally I love getting soaked clear through to my skin," Erik shot back, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "next time I think I shall drown myself in the Seine."

"Oh, I don't care what you do to yourself," Charles replied, not missing a beat, "it was Miss Daae I was concerned for, she is soaked as well, in case you hadn't noticed. Drown yourself for all I care."

"Charles!" Danielle gasped, "that is an awful thing to say."

"Yes, it is," he agreed, "I apologize."

"As do I," Erik sighed, clenching and unclenching his fists, "I fear I have caused a great deal of trouble tonight…perhaps I should leave."

"I believe," Charles said, "that you should apologize to Miss Daae, and not me."

Erik nodded his head and finally looked at Christine, staring straight into her eyes for a fleeting second, "I am sorry."

"Don't be," she said, gently touching his hand, "I'm almost dry anyways, no harm done."

He nodded his head and couldn't help but think that she was being too good to him. Putting on a brave face in front of the Armands. He couldn't imagine why else she would be acting kindly towards him. Not after everything he had done.

"Well, that's good to hear," Charles said, "I believe that Raoul will be looking for you. He seemed terribly worried before I found Chaunce for him to speak with. Sabina, are you any dryer yet?"

Erik glanced down at his wet clothes and gave a mirthless laugh, "No, I do not think so."

"You'd think among all those layers one would have remained dry," Danielle chortled, "any luck, Monsieur Sabina?"

He shook his head, "No, soaked through, I'm afraid."

"Well its time to return, none the less," Charles informed him, "can't hide away for the entire party, now can we?"

"I would rather," Erik admitted.

Charles just gave a laugh and led the way from the room, with Danielle and Christine in close pursuit. Erik trailed after them, dreading the thought of returning to the crowded ballroom for another hour at least.

"Christine!" Raoul exclaimed, immediately spotting her, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, blushing slightly at his concern.

"You're certain? You're wet, perhaps I should take you home, I wouldn't want you to get sick."

"I'll be fine," she said, amusement tingeing her voice.

He seemed content with that and gave a small smile, before his eyes trailed to Erik, who was hanging back, watching the scene before him. There was more than a hint of bitterness in his eyes as he did so.

"Come, Christine," Raoul said, "lets dance."

With that he led her onto the dance floor, amongst the other couples. Christine dared a glance back at Erik, whom she noted looked quite put off by the entire affair. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him, as she was led away from him for a second time.

"Monsieur Sabina, you look as if you have swallowed a bug," Danielle teased, keeping her voice low.

"Indeed."

"Ah, there is the stoic man my husband introduced me to," she said, placing a hand on his arm.

Erik pulled away form the touch and smoothed his sleeve, "I think I may leave. This entire affair is making me feel quite ill."

"Oh, but you haven't even danced yet, have you? You cannot leave a party without at least one dance."

"I do not dance."

"Surely you must!" she insisted.

Erik barely suppressed a small snort. True, he did know how to dance; he had seen it enough at the galas held at the theatre to have learned. In fact he figured that he would be quite good at it, if the will to practise ever struck. Of course he also knew some of the Romany dances, entirely inappropriate for such a place.

"I suppose I do," he grumbled.

"Well then ask someone," Charles encouraged him, intruding on the conversation, "now, if you don't mind, I will steal my wife for a dance."

"Not at all," Erik muttered, "she is your wife, after all."

---------------------------

Charles moved onto the dance floor with Danielle and left Erik standing off to the side, where he preferred to be. He watched the others dance and couldn't suppress a pang of jealousy at the sight of Christine with Raoul. That stupid boy with the perfect face.

He could feel the familiar jealous anger burning in his stomach, it was something he was all too used to and yet thought he was past. He couldn't stand how they danced together, how he would steal kisses and how she would smile at him and laugh. It infuriated him, and yet all he could do was clench his jaw until he frowned and watch it happen.

He made the decision quickly, almost too quickly to even process what he was doing, but then again, he had always done rash things when he was angry. Within seconds he was across the dance floor and beside them.

He taped the boy firmly on the shoulder, "May I cut in?"

He just gave a small bow and backed away. Erik felt a small triumph, he had known the boy was too proper to refuse and make a scene.

Christine carefully put her hand in his and for a moment he saw uncertainty flicker in her eyes as he placed his hand on her waist. That flicker quickly disappeared though as he led her into the waltz.

"You look lovely tonight, mademoiselle," he said, changing their direction.

"Merci," she replied, allowing him to spin her out and jerk her back in more roughly than most.

"Are you enjoying your evening?" he continued.

"Yes, despite the rain," Christine said, finding his strange small talk slightly unnerve ring.

"I'm glad," he said, spinning her and forcing her to step backwards.

"You, monsieur?"

"Wonderful," he replied tightly.

He was a good dancer, that much she would admit. Every step was deliberate and perfect. Everything smooth and calculated, if not more passionate than a waltz should be. But she didn't mind, in fact she found the passion strangely welcome.

He spun her out again and she saw him look at her hand, his eyebrow raising slightly, "No ring?"

"Not yet," she replied, coming back to him and placing her hand on his shoulder.

"I would have thought you'd have been married as quickly as possible," he remarked, rather cruelly in her mind, and it sent a flare of anger through her, "it has been, what, three months?"

"Three and a half," she corrected, forcing him a step back this time.

"So sorry, I lost track of time."

The music slowed and she decided to play her own game with him. Very slowly and gently she placed her hand on his chest and leaned her head against it. It had the desired effect, his heart was obviously racing. So she snaked her hand back onto his shoulder and gave a small smile.

They danced for a few moments, his heart racing nearly the entire time. She just closed her eyes and listened, it was very comfortable leaning against him and moving slowly to the music.

"Your vicomte will not like this," he said suddenly, pushing her away.

"You're the one who asked me to dance," she pointed out.

"It was a mistake," he said, voice oddly harsh.

-----------------------

He left the dance floor quickly, leaving her to follow him back to the side of the room. Raoul was there and quickly moved towards her, placing a gently kiss on her lips. That small act seemed to anger Erik, though he didn't do or say anything.

"We should be going," Raoul told Charles, "I promised not to have Christine out too late, and her guardian will surely have my head if I do not keep my word."

"Well then I'm glad you came," Charles smiled, "I hope to see you both again."

"Yes, good night," Danielle agreed.

"Thank you for everything," Christine murmured.

Raoul shook Charles hand and they left. Charles smiled after them until they were gone, then he turned to Erik and gave him a questioning look. Erik did his best to ignore it, glaring at the far wall as if it had wronged him in some terrible way.

"So, you can dance," Charles finally stated.

Erik was positive the sound of his teeth grinding off one another was audible, "Yes."

"You know, I think you worried Raoul a bit with it," Charles stated mildly.

"I have a headache, I'm leaving," Erik stated, turning away swiftly.

"Wait," Charles said, grabbing his sleeve as he went.

Erik rounded on him quickly then, turning on his heel and taking a menacing step forward before realizing what he was doing. With a heavy sigh he pressed his fingers against his forehead.

"I apologize, I'm just not…no, it's no excuse."

"If you aren't feeling well perhaps you should stay the night," Danielle suggested, giving him a nervous once over, "you look pale, and the rain can't have done you any good."

"I think I'll manage," Erik replied, "but thank you, it was very kind of you to offer."

"Are you certain?" she asked, "you really don't look well."

"I'll be fine," Erik replied, "have a good evening. I hope you enjoy the house."

--------------------------------

Christine sighed as the carriage rattled down the road and back to her home. Antoinette would no doubt be up waiting for her, as she always was. She always made sure her and Meg were home safe every night. It was a good feeling.

"He's alive," Raoul muttered, starting at his hands, "Christine, I've been thinking. It's been nearly four months since…well, you know, and I think it was time that I got you another ring."

"Oh…" Christine said, casting her gaze out the window, "I see…"

"Christine, I love you!" he said suddenly, "and I want to marry you."

"Raoul, I just…I know it's been difficult but I just…I need a bit more time. Please, say you'll understand."

"But I don't! I don't, Christine, I wish I did, I really do, but it doesn't make any sense to me."

The carriage jerked to a stop and Christine leaned across and kissed him, "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"I don't know," he said, exasperation tingeing his voice, "I have to go to Rouen for a few days. I believe I'm leaving tomorrow, I'll take you to supper when I get back though."

He kissed her good night then and walked her to the front door. Sure enough Antoinette was waiting up in the parlour.

"Good night," Christine said, giving a small wave, "I'm just going to go to bed."

"Very well, as am I. Do you need help with your dress?"

"No, I think I can manage."

With that she went into her room and changed into her nightgown. She was tired, but her mind was still racing from the events of the evening. He was alive, and not only that, but he had a name.

"Erik," she said aloud. It sounded strange on her tongue, "Erik…Erik…"'

-------------------------------

**A/N: Review, review review! Hmm, I wonder if I said that enough. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter and such, I'll try to update quickly...reviews are a good incentive for that (hint hint).**


	17. XVII

XVII

It was so easy to fall back into despair, after all, hadn't he spent nearly his entire life in it? It seemed to drown him, his self loathing and dislike for his own actions. Why could he never control himself, was it really so difficult?

For a while he had almost made himself believe he was over her, that he would leave her in peace and allow her to continue with her life. It had been easy then, not knowing where she lived and having no means to find out except Antoinette, who would never have revealed that information. But seeing her, knowing she was in Paris, or at least near, made it almost unbearable. He even wondered if he had truly returned to the city because of boredom, or out of some distant hope she may still be there.

"Are you just going to sit there all day?" the maid snapped, brushing past his desk with a duster in hand.

"Go away," Erik grumbled.

"Honestly, you haven't left the house in three days…and you haven't left that chair in most of that time."

Erik scowled and lifted his chin from his arms just enough to turn and glare at her. Instead he was greeted with bright, mid-day sun as she opened the curtains.

"Close those!" he snarled, shielding his eyes against the sharp rays.

"Come now," she tsked, "you're no vampire, sunlight isn't gonna kill you."

"I wouldn't be so sure," he muttered, wiping tears from his eyes.

The maid just shook her head and went about her cleaning, brushing past Erik far more than was necessary. After about ten minutes he got up and went to the bedroom to lie down. The chair had been becoming uncomfortable anyways.

"Here I am," he sighed, staring at the ceiling, "stuck in a city I hate, with people I hate and with nothing to do…which I hate…and now I am talking to myself. How wonderful!"

He stayed in bed for nearly two hours, dozing as the heat from the sun filtered in through the thin curtains. It wasn't until the maid rapped her fist against the door and promptly entered that he bothered opening his eyes.

"I did not tell you to come in," he said curtly, gritting his teeth.

"Well I didn't suspect you were doing anything important," she huffed, "besides you got a letter."

His eyebrow raised as she held out the envelope, "A letter?"

"Indeed, that is what it seems to be, doesn't it?"

He sighed and sat up, snatching the letter from her hand and tearing it open. It was written on a thick paper with handwriting that seemed vaguely familiar. He groaned when he realised it was from Charles.

"I'm finished your house," he growled, "why the hell would you disturb me now?"

Dear Monsieur Sabina,

My dear wife and I were concerned over your health after the party and hope that this letter finds you well. We would like to invite you to the estate for dinner this evening. Six o'clock sharp.

Sincerely

Charles and Danielle Armand.

Erik blinked at the letter and re-read it. He had never quite grasped why Charles wanted his company, it truly made no sense to him. He wasn't social, he could barely hold a conversation and his attitude was dismal at the bestof times.

"Splendid," he sighed, then noticed the maid in the doorway, "why are you still here?"

"What's the letter say?" she asked.

"That Death wishes me to join him for tea," Erik replied, "we are very good friends, you see."

That made her leave in a huff, he knew her to be a very religious woman and superstitious to boot. If he was ever in the mood it could easily provide him with hours of amusement. Not to mention hours of silence.

"Are you going?" she called.

Erik sighed, Charles, Death, they were close enough, "Why not? I have nothing better to do with my miserable self."

------------------------

Erik made sure to wash and shave before leaving that evening. Not that he really cared what Charles thought of him, but he didn't wish for Danilele to see him a complete mess. So dressed in his dark suit he proceeded out the door and to the streets.

"Sabina!" Charles beamed, opening the door before he even knocked, "I'm so glad you could make it, though you are late.

Erik lowered his fist and cleared his throat, "Terribly sorry."

"No its fine, really," Charles said, stepping aside to let him in, "come in, Danielle was beginning to wonder if you were coming."

Erik gingerly stepped inside, slightly put off by the younger man's wide smile and cheerful manner. Usually when someone was late they weren't greeted so warmly.

"Charles?" Danielle asked, stepping into the hall, "oh, Monsieur Sabina, it is good to see you."

"Indeed," Erik replied, still unsure of the whole situation. They wanted something, they had to.

"Well dinner is ready, if you want, I believe the cook made chicken. I hope you like that."

Erik shrugged his shoulder, "It is fine."

"Good, come with me then."

Erik followed her the the dining room and took the offered seat. In his opinion the room was quite fetching with the fine oak table and chairs in it. It certainly looked a great deal better than the dust covered room it had been before.

"So, I trust you are feeling better, Monsieur," Daniell said as the salad arrived.

"Hmm," Erik said, offering the smallest nod.

"That is good, I was worried over your health after the party," she said, offering a sort of sympathetic smile.

"It was merely a headache," Erik replied, stabbing a piece of lettuce with his fork, he hated lettuce, "there was never any need for concern."

"Ah, but you did look awefully pale, Sabina," Charles said.

"I am always pale," Erik replied.

"Well I'm glad you are feeling well," Charles said, giving a small laugh, "enjoying your salad?"

"Immensly," Erik replied.

The meal was fairly quiet, with only a few comments on the quality of the food. It was good, Erik admitted, not that he particularly wanted to eat it. Still he put on a good show of taking small bites and thoroughly chewing them and the other two seemed oblivious to the fact that he ate less than a quarter of the meal.

"Well that was delicious," Charles said as they moved to the parlour, "wouldn't you agree, Sabina?"

"It was ," he agreed.

"Hmm, is that a compliment?" Danielle asked.

"I think it was," Charles said, "I don't think I have ever heard one from him before."

Erik gave a slight role of his eyes and sat down in one on the chairs. Danielle and Charles sat together on the small sofa, obviously enjoying the closeness it provided.

"That was a nice meal, wasn't it?" Charles asked.

"Yes, it was," Danielle said, smiling at her husband. He grinned back and stole a quick kiss, something that made Erik shift slightly in his seat.

"Something the matter, Sabina?" Charles asked, noticing the small shift.

"Not at all," Erik replied, settling back into the chair.

The next few minutes passed in an awkward silence. Erik had nothing to say and Charles didn't seem to know what to say. Something Erik found very strange, the man usually had some idiotic remark.

"Monsieur," Danielle said, breaking the silence, "I hope that I am not being intrusive, but I wonder; have you ever been in love."

Erik frowned and lowered his eyes slighty, "Why do you ask, Madame?"

"I am just curious," she replied, her voice slightly nervous, "if you don't want to answer though that is-"

"Yes," Erik said, interupting her, "I have…though I'm afraid it was a rather complicated affair that ended rather badly."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Danielle murmured.

Erik shrugged his shoulders, "I should not have expected anything different."

"That cannot be true," Danielle objected, "why shouldn't you have?"

Erik sighed quietly and gave a small shrug of self contempt. It wasn't a subject he wished to delve into, everything was still too fresh, especially after the other night.

"Tell me," he said, "why did you invite me here, Armand?"

"For dinner," the man replied, a bit too slowly for Erik's likings.

"Come now, do not play me for a fool," Erik said, staring the man down, "I know that you did not simply invite me for a pleasant meal, you want something. I could tell the moment you opened the door with such enthusiasm. Come now, you will have to tell me at some point this evening, why not now?"

Danielle gave a small laugh as her husband seemed to wither beneath Erik's intense gaze. Charles shifted nervously a couple times and then let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine, you win!" he groaned, "I actually did have a favour to ask of you, though that is not why I invited you to dinner. You were invited because I enjoy to have contact with my friends, however strange and brooding they are."

"I see, now, what is this favour?"

"A friend of my father's wishes for some help in purchasing some land on which to build a new home…Anyways, they wish it to be near Rouen for some reason and I offered to help."

"And why would you do that?"

"My brother lives near Rouen and he owns a fair amount of land in the nearby area. So I sent a letter to him regarding it and he informed me that he would be willing to sell some of the land to this friend. However-"

"You do not know any of the requirements that the land would need," Erik finished, having figured out what he was trying to say, "so you wish for me, an architect, to go with you and survey the land."

"Uh, yes that is what I want," Charles nodded.

"And you assume that I will be able to go?" Erik asked, "that I will not be busy at the time?"

Charles sighed, "Well, I was of course going to ask you first…are you?"

"No, I am currently unemployed," Erik shrugged.

"Oh, I see. Well then, would you consider it?" he pressed.

"I could not go for another three days at least."

"But you said-"

"That I was unemployed, not that I had no plans. As it so happens I am leaving Paris for a few days. There is someone I wish to visit."

"Well, that is fine, I can understand that," Charles said, "in fact I could not possibly leave in that time. You see I have to wait for…never mind. If you were to come we would be leaving in five days time. Would that be suitable?"

"I suppose…I am not particularly fond of the area, but other than that I have no objections. Where would we be staying?"

"With my brother, naturally. He and his wife have agreed to let us stay with them in their home while we are there."

"How quaint."

"Yes…so you will go?"

"For a price," Erik said, smirking, "I am an architect, after all, and this could be considered work."

"You are a devil," Charles sighed, "but yes, you will be paid. That was already discussed."

"Well then I see no reason not to go. Five days, you say?"

"Yes."

"That will give me plenty of time."

"Where are you going?" Danielle asked.

"To visit someone," Erik replied, "I promised I would and have avoided it thus far. I figure that I should go, if only to convince them that I have not dropped dead in the time I have been away."

"Oh, I see. Well then perhaps you should be going?" she asked.

"Yes I think I should," he said, standing up rather quickly, "thank you for the dinner, it was delicious."

"Good night," Danielle said, "have a safe trip home."

"Good night, Madame. Armand, I shall see you in five days. Send me a letter as to the details, I'm sure I will get it in plenty of time."

------------------------

**A/N: Dum dee dum, well hope you enjoyed that chapter and will leave me a review telling me just how much you did...or didn't. Anyways the moer the reviews the fast I'll update, because they motivate me!**


	18. XVIII

XVIII

Christine sighed and re-tied her shoes before her and Meg were to begin a class with the younger girls. Her feet ached, she was tired and she could not get the events from only days before out of her mind.

It had been impossible to tell his feelings. Had he been angry with her? It seemed that way, but then again he had also seemed frightened and sad. Erik…it still felt strange to call him that. Erik's feelings were too hard to read through his actions.

"You ready?" Meg asked, watching as her friend took too long to tie her shoes.

"Yeah, coming," Christine replied, tying the knot and jumping up from the bench.

It hadn't just been Erik though, in fact, it would have been nice if that had been all. But Raoul afterwards caused her mind enough trouble. She knew how much the boy loved her, how deeply he cared and how much he wanted her to be happy. She wanted for him to be happy as well, but she didn't know how anymore.

Oh it had been simple at the theatre, when he was her knight, riding down on a great white horse to save her from the villain. But she had been frightened then, and now that she wasn't all those fantasies seemed like just that; fantasies. Childhood dreams dreamt up by childhood sweethearts.

"I need you two to work on pirouettes today," Antoinette informed them as they entered the room, "I will return in a minute, ensure they do their stretches."

"Yes, maman," Meg said cheerfully, "so, get to it!"

Raoul had been gone for the past three days, and he would not return until late that night, she knew that much. But she found that she didn't mind, once he returned he would want to talk again, and she knew what the subject would be: marriage.

"Christine," Meg hissed, calling her back to reality.

"Oh! Sorry, umm, yes?"

"I was thinking that you could do a demonstration for the girls. Maman always said you were better at pirouette than I was.

Christine gave Meg a raised eyebrow for that. It was a blatant lie; Meg had always been the better dancer. Still she agreed to demonstrate and showed the girls the proper form and technique. Not that any of them would get it right for some time.

"So," Meg said, once they were leaving the theatre, "when is Raoul returning?"

"Tonight," Christine replied, offering a weak smile, "He wants to go to supper tomorrow."

"How nice," Meg sighed, "I wish I had someone to take me to supper. "

"You will someday," Christine assured her. There was no way that a beautiful young dancer such as Meg wouldn't find someone.

"Maybe," she sighed, glancing in a shop window, "but I'm in no hurry, I'm still young."

"Yes," Christine agreed, they were still young, both of them. Too young, she thought, to have dealt with so much already. It made her feel older sometimes, much older, and yet no more wise for it.

"Oh, hurry!" Meg gasped, hailing a cab, "We'll miss it!"

They caught the cab and returned home to a supper already being made. Meg smiled widely at the scent of ham, after a long day of work a hot meal always felt good.

---------------------------------

Raoul yawned and ran a hand through his hair. He had returned to his house late the night before and had been woken early for breakfast. Now, as he sat in his study, he felt the exhaustion settle over him like a heavy blanket.

"Son?" his father asked, rapping loudly on the door.

"Yes, father?" he asked, looking up from the book he hadn't been reading.

"I need you to go out to Rouen a few days," he said, not leaving any room for argument, "I am interested in purchasing some land near there and Monsieur Charles Armand has graciously agreed to aid me. Given his brother own a large amount of land out in that area that he is willing to sell."

"Father," Raoul sighed, "I just returned from some business, must I go out again? Besides, Charles knows nothing of land, what do you want it for anyways?"

"To build a house," his father replied brusquely, "and you will be going. I cannot travel as I used to, you know that, and with your brother still away I have no one else to send. Besides, you and Charles are good friends.

Raoul suppressed a groan and nodded his head, "Yes we are, but I am also in love with Christine and I can barely find time to spend with her!"

"That is not my problem," his father said curtly, "you are going, and afterwards you may spend time with your fiancée to be."

"Very well, father," he muttered.

His father nodded and left Raoul alone in the study again. Five minutes later he found himself seeking out his mother, the woman from whom he could get a ring for his love. She was sitting in the parlour embroidering a pillow.

"Mother?" he asked, sitting in one of the chairs, "may I talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course, dear, what is it?"

"I am in need of a ring, mother," he began awkwardly, "for Christine."

"Ah," she said, setting down what she was working on, "have you finally decided to replace the one that was so carelessly lost?"

"It was stolen, mother," Raoul corrected, "and yes. I am to go away for father for a few days and when I return I wish to propose…again."

"Well then, when you return I will have a ring for you. But not before that. I do not want another ring lost or stolen. You understand, don't you, dear?"

"Of course," Raoul said, "but you will have one when I return?"

"Yes, dear," she said, offering a polite smile, "if that is what you want."

"Thank you, mother," Raoul said, a smile gracing his lips, "thank you. I think I will go rest now, I have been far too busy as of late."

"Indeed you have. Try not to make yourself sick. Perhaps you should cancel that supper you had planned for tonight."

Raoul paused in the doorway and frowned. He knew his mother did not approve of him and Christine, but he still thought that she should at least pretend to be supportive. Wasn't that what mother's were for?

"Perhaps," he said, knowing full well that he wouldn't.

---------------------------------

Christine smiled warmly and embraced him as he entered the hallway. Raoul looked tired, but smiled the same way and placed a kiss on her cheek. He was thrilled to be seeing her again.

"You look tired," Christine commented, "how was your trip?"

"Fine," he shrugged.

"That's good to hear…"

The dinner was quiet, filled only with occasional small talk about the theatre or Raoul's business trip. There didn't seem to be anything else to talk about. Christine knew he wanted to ask about the party, she could sense it every time he spoke, but he never once came forth and said anything.

"That was fun," Christine said once they were outside her house again.

"Yes…Christine, I have to tell you something."

"Oh?"

"I'm going away again in a few days, to Rouen, or somewhere near there. I'm sorry, I know that with all this 'business' I haven't been able to see you much, I want to make it up to you."

"It really is fine, Raoul," Christine said, "you don't have to-"

"Then I want to," He insisted, "this isn't fair, Christine. My father has been having me run about ever since…"

"The fire," Christine murmured.

"Yes, that. Please, let me make it up to you, Little Lotte."

"Alright," Christine said, attempting to smile, "if you really want to."

"I do," he said, taking her hands in his, "so tell me what you would like…anything at all!"

Christine gave a small shrug of her shoulders. That was the problem, wasn't it? She didn't know what she wanted; she had never truly known what she wanted. People had always told her; even now they were doing so. What did she want?

"Anything," he repeated.

"I don't know…" Christine replied quietly, "Raoul, I-I really don't."

He frowned slightly, confused by her serious tone, "Why don't I choose then, and surprise you?"

She gave a weak smile, yes let him choose, "Sure, that would be great, Raoul."

He nodded his head, brow still slight furrowed. Then he leaned in and kissed her. For once not one of the light little kisses respectable in public, but a deeper more passionate kiss. Like the one on the rooftop of the Opera Populaire, or the one…

"Mm, I should get inside," she said, pulling away, "I'm sorry, Madame will probably be worrying."

"Oh…of course, good night then."

"G-good night!" she squeaked, hurrying into the house.

"You are home early," Antoinette commented, "did you have a good time?"

"Yes, it was quite lovely," Christine said, head still reeling, "I think I'll go to bed now…good night, Madame."

"Bonne nuit, ma cherie."

Christine gave a small nod and hurried to her room, not surprised to see Meg's light still on as she went. It was still fairly early, but she did not feel like staying up and talking any longer. So she closed her door and changed into her nightgown, maybe in dreams she would find an answer to all that was troubling her.


	19. XIX

XIX

Erik gave a small sigh as his horse tugged on the reigns, attempting to stretch out its neck to reach the grass bellow. Erik just tugged back, causing the stallion to give an irritable snort as he turned around to try and bite his boot.

"No wonder they were sick of you in the stable," Erik grumbled, eyeing the farm just a few meters away, "come on, might as well get this over with."

He was barely there two minutes before he heard the eager voice of Fleur. The little blonde girl was already running towards him, a small bundle of flowers in her hand.

"You came to visit!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around his legs, "why'd you stay away so long?"

"I had to work," Erik replied, trying to detach the child from his leg. Then he got an idea," it was a long ride, perhaps you could brush Ragnorak for me."

"Uh-huh!" she said eagerly.

Erik gave a small smirk and removed the saddle and bridle, "Merci, he will no doubt appreciate it."

"I'll be careful too," she said, "maman always told me to be careful round the horsies."

"How very wise of her."

Erik went off as the girl went off to find the brushes. It was truly one of his more commendable ideas. Now if only he could get rid of Charles so easily his life would be much simpler. Not to mention a great deal less stressful.

Everything on the farm looked the same, from the lush green grass, to the slightly run down barn and the crooked fences. Erik sighed as he approached the house, suddenly questioning whether he should have returned or not.

"Well, well," Colette said, coming out from behind the house and wiping her hand on her apron, "there's a face I have not seen in quite some time."

"Bonjour, Madame," Erik replied, "did I not say I would return?"

She gave a tiny shrug, "I didn't believe you. But it is good to see you, none the less. How is Paris, everything you wanted it to be?"

"That and more," Erik muttered.

"Well you came just as I was doing some planting. Care to help?"

"No."

"Articulate as ever. Come with me, I could use a hand."

Erik spent the rest of the afternoon helping Colette plant and pick vegetables from the garden.

"You've got dirt on your face," she informed him.

Erik gave a small grunt and wiped his sleeve across his cheek, missing the smear of soil by an inch.

"No," Colette said, reaching up to wipe it away, "its right here."

He pulled back as she tried to wipe away the smear and used his own hand to wipe it off. Colette shook her head and sighed before starting to wash and chop vegetables on the kitchen counter.

"So, how long will you be staying here?"

"How do you know I even intend to stay the night?"

"Because Paris is a ways away," she replied, "and you brought that bag with you."

"Ah yes…three says, or so I had planned. If it inconveniences you in any way then I can leave early."

"It shouldn't," she said, "I am having a guest over for dinner tonight, and Father Manson will be coming by tomorrow. Other than that, nothing."

"Splendid, I leave the city to get some peace and there is more activity here."

"Too much excitement lately?"

"Hmm, yes I suppose it could be called that."

"And how is work?"

"Fine, I am leaving to go to Rouen in five days."

"How nice…"

They sat in silence after that, the large cat purring loudly from the floor and staring up at Erik with hopeful eyes. He just stared back at it, priding himself when the car blinked first. Then Fleur came in, all smiles and carrying a bunch of flowers.

"Look, maman!" she exclaimed, "thrusting the flowers forward, "I gots some flowers for the table."

"They're beautiful," Colette said, "we'll put them in a vase, alright?"

"Mmm hmm," Fleur said, nodding her head, "where is it?"

"Ask Erik to get it for you," Colette said, it's on the shelf, at the top."

"Erik, can you get it?" Fleur asked, batting her eyelashes at him, "I brushed your horsie up all nice!"

Erik rolled his eyes and fetched the vase from the top shelf, which was located right beside Colette. He really didn't know why she made him do it, she was right there after all.

"You gonna stay for supper?" Fleur asked, putting her flowers in the vase.

"Maybe."

"Cause my aunt is coming and she's bringing my cousin with her."

"Cousin?"

"Yup, he's a year older than me, but we still play together. You could play with us!"

"It sounds very amusing," Erik replied.

"Yeah, we could play some hide and seek. It's our favourite game."

"Very well, but only if I am allowed to hide first," Erik said, a smile twisting his lips, "I am very good at hiding. I can even make myself disappear."

Fleur's eyes widened in amazement, "Really? I bet me and Marcus could find you, cause we're the best at finding!"

"Very well, if you can find me then I shall give you each a gift."

-------------------------

By the time supper was finished and the children were ready to play Erik was relieved to dash off as they counted. Colette's sister was a nice enough person, if a bit simple. However she did have that annoying habit of talking too much while staring at him.

He found the perfect place to hide in the barn. With all the grace that he had learned leaping and climbing through the flies of the theatre he climbed up to the top of the barn and nestled himself in behind large bails of sweet smelling hay. The only way up was the ladder, and they would not be able to get it down.

He stayed up there as they searched bellow, their young voices drifting up to him as they looked in the stalls and behind the bales of hay down bellow. The barn door opened and closed five times before they gave up on the area, and he allowed himself to doze, leaning against the wall until someone pulled the ladder down.

"They gave up ages ago," Colette informed him, climbing into the loft, "you know, usually only the cats climb up here to hide. And even they have trouble with it."

"I find it peaceful up here," Erik yawned.

"Ah, and it's a good place to hide, isn't it?"

Erik gave a wry smiled, it seemed that she knew him better than he had first assumed, "Indeed it is."

"Now be honest with me, how are you liking Paris?"

He gave a small shrug, "It is not a terrible city, but it can become a bit crowded at times."

"And that is why you came back?" she asked, "to get away from it all?"

"Hmm, I guess so."

"Well I'm sorry you had to come when we were so busy. It doesn't happen often, but you had to come when it did."

"Then I will simply remain here for the duration of my stay," Erik said.

"You and the cats will enjoy each other's company then."

"Somehow I cannot see that blob you call a cat climbing up here…it can barely make it onto a chair."

"Not Fleur's cat, the barn cats. Fleur's cat is much too fat to be up here…honestly, though; I do not want you staying up here all night. Come inside, have some tea and go to bed. You seem tense, maybe a good night's sleep will relax you a bit."

"I seriously doubt that," Erik grumbled, "but thank you, I'll come."

--------------------------------------

Christine gave an airy sigh as she watched the younger girls finish their stretches and bustle out of the room. She could remember when she and Meg had done that. It seemed like only yesterday. With a small shake of her head she drew herself back to reality, she was too young to be thinking that way.

"Christine, do you want to go shopping before we go home?" Meg asked hopefully, "I saw a pair of shoes the other day, and I could even afford them! Please?"

"I'd like that," Christine said.

"Wonderful! Come on, let's get changed and hurry."

Meg's cheerful banter kept Christine in reality for the rest of the day, taking of fashion, shoes, dance and even the young man Meg fancied. She had become quite taken with one of the young men who worked in the theatre, or do it seemed.

"He's just very handsome," she said again, "what do you think?"

"I don't know," Christine shrugged, "I don't think I'm the one to ask."

"Why not? Look at you and Raoul, you're so happy together."

Christine gave a small smile. That was a lie, they weren't together enough to be happy together, and when they did see each other it always seemed strained. No, they were happy apart, or at least that was how she felt.

"When are you two going to announce your engagement again?"

"Oh, I really don't know…we were waiting for everything to calm down and-"

"But everything has calmed down," Meg interrupted cheerfully, "so it should be soon, right?"

"Right, I guess so," Christine said. She hated it how Meg seemed more excited about her engagement than she herself felt.

"Oh, there they are!" Meg said, rushing over to a shop window, "aren't they pretty?"

"Yes, very," Christine said, looking at the pair of shoes. Truthfully, to her, they just looked like regular shoes, though maybe a bit shinier. But if Meg loved them so much she wouldn't say anything. Maybe they were really nice shoes, but she always preferred dresses over shoes.

"Come on, I want to see if they fit," Meg said, dragging Christine into the shop.

"You didn't think to look last time?" Christine asked.

"I didn't have time!"

When Christine returned to the house Antoinette handed her a small box, wrapped in colourful paper, with a bow on the top. Christine gave a slight frown and took it, along with the small note that came with it.

"Who?"

"Read and find out," Antoinette said, "Meg, come and help me with supper please, the maid is off tonight."

Meg scurried off and Christine opened the note. It was from Raoul.

Christine,

I am terribly sorry that I could not give this to you myself, but my father is forcing me to a small dinner with friends tonight. I would have invited you, but know that you are busy with the theatre. Here is my gift for you. I hope you love it as much as I love you.

With love,

Raoul de Chagny

Christen gave a sad smiled and tucked the note away before opening the box. Inside it was one of the most beautiful necklaces she had ever seen. A gorgeous pearl sat on the end of a silver chain, clasped within a golden claw. Christine touched it reverently and gave a small sigh before putting it on.

"What did he get you?" Antoinette asked when she walked into the kitchen.

"A necklace," Christine said, lifting the pearl up so she could see.

"Oh, Christine, it's so beautiful!" Meg exclaimed.

"Indeed it is," Antoinette agreed, "you must thank him for it."

"I will," Christine assured her, "I'm just going to go to my room for a minute. I want to write him a letter. He's leaving in a day or two, and I want to make sure he receives my thanks before he goes, if I do not see him before then."

"A good idea, I will call you when supper is ready."

"Thank you, Madame."

Christine went to there room and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. Very carefully she began to write the letter, trying to come up with the right words to express her gratitude, and sound as loving as possible.

As she wrote she wiped the tears from her eyes, lest one should fall onto the page and stain it. When she was finished she carefully sealed it in an envelope and scrawled the address on the front.

"Supper!" Antoinette called through the door.

"Alright, I'll be right there," she said, picking up the letter, "Madame, may I make sure this is sent away first?"

"Of course, just be quick or your supper will get cold."

"Of course," she said, hurrying towards the door in hopes of finding a messenger to send the letter with.

-------------------------------

**A/N: I was going to update last night but then my mouse broke...or more so my dad's expensive awesome mouse broke and I had to replace it with an ancient mouse that works better. Weird how that works eh? Anyways, I am not a particular fan of this chapter so let me know what you think of it, drop me a review.**


	20. XX

XX

Erik paced back and forward on the train platform while Charles peered through the crowds, waiting for their friend to find them.

"Sabina, if you don't stop that pacing I'll throw you on the tracks!" Charles joked, causing Erik to come to an abrupt stop.

"He is late," Erik grumbled.

"Oh, and you're always on time?" Charles shot back, "try to be patient, Sabina."

Erik succeeded at standing still for a total of ten seconds before he began to pace again. He hated the train station. There were people everywhere, crowded together and dragging trunks and bags of luggage behind them. Not only that, but he was forcing himself to go to Rouen, something he had managed to work himself up over the night before.

"Oh, Monsieur, you look troubled, what's wrong?" Danielle asked.

"Nothing," he snapped, though the familiar panic of being in a crowded place was creeping through his veins, "I am fine."

"He should be here soon," Charles said, bobbing up and down to look over the crowds.

"He had better!" Erik snapped, growling at a passer-by who happened to bump into him.

"Relax, Sabina," Charles chuckled, "you're working yourself up for nothing."

"Humph!"

"Charles is right, Monsieur," Danielle soothed, resting her hand gently on his arm.

Erik reacted quickly, drawing his arm towards him as if he meant to hit her, but instead leaving it to rest on his chest. Danielle just shook her head and placed her hand in the crook of his arm, and patted it gently with her other hand.

"Have you ever travelled by train before, Monsieur Sabina?" she asked, trying to distract him from the throngs of people.

"No I have not…and I do not intend to do so again either."

"Oh, but you haven't even boarded yet. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"No, I will not."

"If you keep worrying so much you'll get sick," Danielle warned.

"She's right, you know?" Charles agreed, "You'll work yourself into a fever."

"How terrible," he grumbled, a headache was already throbbing through his temples.

"Yes, then you'd be both sick and miserable," Charles said, "Oh, there he is. Over here!"

Erik growled softly and turned in the direction that Charles had indicated. He wanted to see who the man was that kept him waiting in the hot sun for so long, crammed onto a platform with hundreds of other people. If it was possible his back straightened even more when he caught sight of the young de Chagny, and Danielle turned to look at him as his teeth ground against each other.

"Is everything alright?" she murmured.

"Fine," he managed, though his jaw didn't seem to want to unclamp.

"I'm very sorry," Raoul panted, running a hand over his forehead, "there was some trouble and…well I'm here now. Have we missed the train?"

"No, no, not yet," Charles said good naturedly, "oh, Danielle is coming as well, I cannot remember if I told you."

"You did," Raoul replied, dusting off his jacket, "And…what is _he_ doing here?"

"Who?" Charles asked, confused by his friend's hostility.

"Him!" Raoul said, motioning at Erik, "is he the architect you were speaking to my father about?"

"Well yes, Sabina is the only architect I know…is that a problem?"

"No," Raoul said quickly, "I was just…never mind. We should probably get on now."

"Of course," Charles said cheerfully, "Danielle, bring Sabina."

"I can walk by myself," Erik grumbled, though Danielle didn't take her hand from his arm.

Once in the train they found an empty car, much to the surprise of Charles, and delight of Erik. Once there they took their seats. Since Erik stoutly, and somewhat petulantly, refused to sit beside Raoul, Danielle happily sat beside him. Leaving Charles to sit beside his old friend.

A few other people moved into the car just before the train was to depart. Two men, each one older than Erik by a few years, and an older woman with a tall feather in her hat. Erik eyed them as they took their seats. The men immediately unfolded papers, and the old woman took out some knitting.

"All aboard!" came the abrasive cry of the conductor and then there was a shrill whistle.

"Oh I hate it when that happens," Danielle complained, "it's so loud."

The train began to move, slowly at first, picking up speed as it left the station. For the first few minutes Erik stared out the window, watching as the trains and people zipped past as the train pulled away from the station and then out of Paris. It was only when Charles started to talk that he turned away from the window.

"So, next stop: Rouen!" he announced, "how wonderful."

"Don't you like Rouen?" Raoul asked.

"Oh, yes I like Rouen enough, it's a lovely place. I even like my brother enough, bless his health. I just don't particularly feel like dealing with his wife…"

"Ah, Vanessa," Raoul muttered, "I understand."

"His wife?" Erik asked, feeling it was the right thing to do.

"Yes. My brother's wife is…well it is hard to describe her. She is…"

"A wretched woman!" Danielle said passionately.

Erik raised his eyebrow and couldn't help but give a small smile. He had never heard Danielle be so passionate, or even vocal for that matter. She was always so quiet and well mannered he hadn't thought her even capable of it.

"Yes, that," Charles agreed.

"How so?" Erik persisted. If he was going to meet her he would want to be ready.

"She is arrogant, and cruel, and vain," Danielle puffed.

"She is rather vain," Raoul agreed awkwardly.

"Yes, if there is something to criticise she will find it," Charles said and, for the first time since they had met, his eyes darted towards Erik's mask.

"Ah, so this," he said, motioning toward the mask, "will be a problem then, hmm?"

"Oh just don't pay her any attention," Danielle said, patting his arm and ignoring the slight flinch, "she is just a grumpy old woman."

"Danielle," Charles scolded gently, "you should not speak of her in that manner…she is not that old."

"And why, pray tell, is she so wretched?" Erik asked, choosing to use Danielle's word instead of the few that entered his mind.

"Well, with my brother being older than I he should be the Comte. However, since he was young he has been a bit of the sickly sort. He has had trouble with his breathing and the like. That is why he stayed in France while I was dragged off to England. Father and mother were worried over his health. Anyways, when they died he should have technically been named Comte, but…"

"You were," Erik said thoughtfully, "and his beloved wife is bitter about that. I suppose that being a vicomtesse was not what she wanted."

"No, she always felt that my parents were being unfair about it all. Which is strange since my brother never seemed to mind. Still she doesn't like me much…or anyone else for that matter."

"And you never thought to mention that before you asked me to take this God awful trip with you?"

"Of course not! I knew that you'd never agree then."

Erik gave a small laugh, he certainly wouldn't have. So it seemed that Charles had gotten the better of him, though he would not admit it.

"Tell me, Monsieur," Danielle said, turning towards him with wide, eager eyes, "have you ever been to Rouen?"

Erik contemplated the question for a while, trying to remember if he had actually ever been to Rouen. He had grown up fairly close to it, though he could not remember ever actually visiting, and his memory was quite good. In fact, try as he might to forget, he could never drive away those memories of his childhood.

"No…I don't believe I have," he murmured.

"That's a shame," she sighed.

"Hmm, not really. I grew up somewhere near it, though. In St.-Martin-de-Boscherville."

"I visited that town once," Danielle said, "it was so lovely…do you remember, Charles?"

"Oh yes, it was a quaint little place. You say you grew up there, Sabina?"

"Yes, for a time," he said, catching a strange look from Raoul.

"Hmm, somehow I can't see you as a little boy playing in the streets or rivers," Charles teased.

"That is because I never played in the streets. Though I did get quite proficient at escaping when I was upposed to be in bed. Something that my mother and the priest found absolutely horrifying."

"Why is that?" Danielle asked, "Why should they find it horrifying that you go out and play?"

Erik caught the glimpse at the mask and began to feel increasingly uncomfortable, "I was not allowed, is all. In fact I resorted to jumping out my window to get there…"

"It sounds as if you were a handful," Charles laughed.

"In the worst sense," Erik agreed.

"Well boys will be boys, won't they?" Danielle asked, "I'm sure Charles was just as much trouble."

"Probably more," he agreed.

"No," Erik said, shaking his head, "I will admit that I was a wretched child, quite the little demon in fact. I was spiteful and intelligent and, being confined as I was, I drove my poor mother quite mad at times. I had an ungovernable temper, even as a child."

Charles just laughed, and Danielle gave a small smile. Something he was grateful for. They probably just considered his 'confinement' as not being allowed to stay out as late as he wished, or not being allowed to do exactly what he wanted. And his temper, well, anyone could see that he had one, and Charles had certainly witnessed it from time to time. By temper they probably thought he just threw tantrums.

"And when did you leave Boscherville?" Danielle asked, bringing back a tide of painful memories.

"When I was eight or nine, I think," he muttered.

He could still remember that horrible night, though not his exact age at the time. The knife in his chest, his poor Sasha and that horrible mob. How cruel people could be at times, though it wasn't what happened to him that he found so horrible, but to the dog. She had never deserved that.

"That is young," Charles commented.

"Well, like I said; I was a wicked child. I think my mother was quite happy to have been rid of me, in fact."

It was almost frightening how he said that with such ease, though he really did believe it. He had left her out of a strange, twisted love, and he always thought that she would have married that doctor after he left, and would have lived happily ever after.

"That is a horrible thing to say!" Danielle exclaimed, "of course she would have."

Erik gave a slight shrug of his shoulders before turning to look out the window again. The train ride would be long, and he had already tired himself of talking.

Erik dozed a bit as the train hurtled onwards, almost oblivious to the world around him. Charles was flipping through something, a paper or maybe some official documents of some kind. Raoul was reading a book, slowly turning the pages and yawning as he did so.

"Hmm, don't you go stealing my wife, Sabina," Charles said quietly, glancing up from his papers.

Erik turned his head slightly; Danielle had her head rested gently against his arm, her eyes closed as she slept. Turning back to Charles he gave a devilish grin, "I would never think of it."

"You'd better not," Charles chuckled, going back to his papers and leaving Erik to his dozing.


	21. Part Three

Part Three

XXI

When Charles had said near Rouen Erik had actually believed him, a stupid thing to do, he later decided. Once off the train they had to find a carriage that was waiting for them and then, after only a few moments to stretch their legs and move their luggage, they were crammed into the small box.

"You know, sitting beside Raoul won't kill you," Charles said, as Erik had once again refused to be beside the boy.

"Maybe it will," Erik grumbled. Sitting opposite him wasn't exactly keeping him happy either, "how long did you say this would take?"

"Oh, not too long. Twenty minutes…half an hour at the most."

"Splendid…"

The carriage finally rattled to a halt in front of a large estate. The horses threw their heads and snorted, pawing at the ground while the occupants climbed out. Everyone spent a good five minutes stretching and walking out cramps as the luggage was taken inside. Erik found that he had developed a particularly bad cramp in his leg, combined with his foot being completely asleep and the long journey he found himself in a foul mood.

"Right," Charles said, adjusting his coat and attempting to smooth out all of his clothes' travelling wrinkles, "look good people, or we won't hear the end of it."

Erik dusted off his jacket and trousers before tightening and straightening his cravat. A hand ran over his hair, smoothing back those annoying strands that never seemed to want to rest in place. Everyone else did the same thing, adjusting skirts and dusting off dirt from travelling. Danielle made sure to straighten Charles' jacket and Raoul made sure to fix his hair.

"Ready?" Charles asked, raising his fist.

"Yes," Erik said.

"Are you certain?" he asked, "because we could wait a few more-"

Erik rolled his eyes and rapped his fist against the door, "Yes, I am certain."

A timid looking maid opened the door and gave a hurried curtsey, "Oh, umm, welcome to the Armand estate, come in please."

She stepped aside and they entered the hall, Erik casting a critical gaze around what he could see of the large house. It seemed nice enough, though no where near as beautiful as Charles' house. But then again, he was slightly biased.

"Monsieur Armand will be with you in a moment," the maid squeaked before scuttling off.

There was some more awkward shuffling before he arrived, his wife following behind him.

"Charles," his brother said warmly, "so good to see you again. It has been too long."

"Indeed," Charles said, "I've missed you, Jacques, how has your health been?"

"Fine, I was a bit under the weather last week, but feel much better now. Raoul, it is good to see you again, and you as well, Danielle. How have you two been?"

"Very well, thank you," Danielle smiled.

"Fine," Raoul replied, "I'm glad you're in good health."

"Thank you, and who is this?" Jacques asked, referring to Erik.

"Oh, this is Monsieur Erik Sabina," Charles replied, "the architect I told you about, remember?"

"Yes, good to meet you."

"A pleasure," Erik said, giving a small bow.

"Sabina, this is my brother: Jacques Armand, and his lovely wife Vanessa Armand."

Erik had been watching Vanessa since they entered the house. She had dark hair tied back tightly, yet elegantly. She was tall and thin with icy hazel eyes and had a pretty, yet stern face. Charles' brother, on the other hand, seemed to be a very friendly man. He was a little overweight with greying dark hair and the same green eyes as his brother. A few lines creased his features and he seemed a bit pale and tired.

"Well, it is good to see you all again," Vanessa said with a clear sharp voice, "and meet you, Monsieur Sabina. You all look well."

Erik stiffened as her eyes racked down his form, resting for a particularly long time on his face. Then he noticed that she was doing the exact same to Raoul, Charles and Danielle.

"Raoul, have you not cut your hair yet?" she asked coldly.

"No," Raoul replied politely.

"Charles, I see you still take the same pride in your appearance," she said, "you are aware that your clothes are rumpled. Danielle, what a lovely dress, though the colour is not very flattering. Perhaps you should try something a bit lighter, hmm?"

Erik frowned, just waiting for her to say something to him, but no insult came. Instead she just gave him an overly critical look before leading them to the parlour. Charles gave Erik a shocked look, as if he couldn't believe, but was very grateful that she had said nothing about his appearance.

"It will come," Erik whispered, "I guarantee it."

The parlour was nice, with a large piano sitting in the corner and a large sofa and two armchairs located in front of a large fireplace. Erik managed to steal and armchair as the others positioned themselves on the sofa, Jacques took the other armchair and his wife stood behind him.

"Now supper should be ready soon," she said, "I hope you are all hungry."

"Yes, thank you," Charles said.

"You'll be pleased, brother, it is your favourite."

"Steak?" Charles asked cheerfully.

"Of course, if that is still your favourite."

"My tastes haven't changed that much," Charles smiled, "I still enjoy steak just as much as I used to."

"I hope the others also like it," Vanessa said, doing a marvellous job at feigning thoughtfulness.

Erik gave a small sigh; of all the foods in the world steak was one of his least favourites. It wasn't that it didn't taste good, quite the opposite, it was that it was difficult to make it look as if he's eaten it. Most foods could be cut into small pieces and shifted around the plate. Steak, on the other hand, did not do that easily. So when dinner came he had that to deal with.

"Are you enjoying your meal, Monsieur Sabina?" Vanessa asked, her cold eyes focussed upon him.

"It is delicious," he managed to grind out. He was tired of her persistent gaze.

"I am glad you are enjoying it," she said, "you are far too thin. You should eat more."

"Oh I think Sabina is healthy enough," Charles said cheerfully, "healthy as a horse, one might say."

"So, Raoul," Jacques began, "why is it your father is so interested in having a home near Rouen?"

"I don't know," Raoul said, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders, "I think he is just interested in having another country estate to escape to, should he ever wish it. Personally I think it is rather foolish, the estate we own is already good enough, but it is not my place to argue."

"Or perhaps he is thinking of the future?" Jacques chuckled, "I hear that your dear brother is quite taken with a beautiful Spanish girl."

"Hmm, I cannot see Philippe ever settling down, Raoul grumbled, "he likes the dancers at the theatres too much."

"Speaking of dancers," Vanessa crooned, "I hear that you are quite taken with one yourself. That Mademoiselle Daee who was involved in all that terrible scandal in Paris, non?"

"Erm, yes," he said, eyes darting nervously towards Erik, "we are to be engaged soon, I hope."

Erik's hand tightened on his fork at the look that Vanessa was giving Raoul. It was as if Christine was not good enough for him, or her precious upper class. To keep himself from saying anything he quickly took a bite of steak.

"How wonderful, I had always wondered which of the de Chagny brothers would be married first," she trilled, "how interesting that it would be you."

Raoul gave an awkward sort of half smile before interesting himself with his baked potato. Charles had also become mysteriously absorbed in his meal along with Danielle.

"Monsieur Sabina, would you be married?" she asked, continuing her assault.

Erik looked up slowly, "No, I would not."

"How strange, a man of your age not being married. But I suppose there are reasons for that, aren't there?"

Erik put his knife down and slid it just a few inches away, along with his fork. There were plenty of men his age, and older, who were not married. In fact he really didn't think his being a bachelor was all that strange.

"I do not see it as strange," he grumbled.

"Sabina is a very busy man," Charles said, giving a strained chuckle.

"Oh, and that is an excuse, is it?

"Well, umm…he is always travelling and the like. He hasn't had time to settle down."

It was a lie, but Erik appreciated it, though he wasn't so sure that Vanessa would. He could already see something forming in her mind, behind those cold eyes.

"You do a lot of travelling?" she asked pleasantly, "where have you been?"

"All of Europe," he replied with a shrug. It wasn't exactly a lie, when with the gypsies he had definitely travelled the breadth of the country, "Italy, Romania…Spain, I think."

"So you are well travelled. Tell me, Monsieur Sabina, which was your favourite country to visit?

"Italy," he muttered, he had read enough about Rome that he thought it might be true. After all, it had amazing architecture, and he had wanted to go there as a young boy.

"Really?" Danielle asked.

"Yes, Rome."

"It would make sense," Jacques chortled, "being an architect and all. I bet you cannot resist all the marvels that city has, can you?"

"Not at all," Erik said with a small smirk.

"Well, if we are all finished then why don't we move to the parlour?" Vanessa suggested.

"Splendid idea, my dear. Come along, Raoul, you must have some information for me from your father. I would like to see it."

"Of course," Raoul said, "I'll just get it from my room."

"Third guestroom on the right," Vanessa said, "you will find all your belongings there."

"Merci, Madame," he said, bowing and turning away from the parlour and towards the stairs.

"Now, Monsieur Sabina, you are the one hired to survey the land, correct?" Jacques asked.

"Yes, that is why I am here."

"Well then, why don't we take a ride out there tomorrow?"

"Yes, that would be agreeable."

They entered the parlour, where another chair had mysteriously appeared. Erik took the one furthest from the others while the rest sat down. When Raoul returned he was sure to sit beside Jacques and took out several documents.

"This is what my father sent me with," Raoul said, spreading them out on the small coffee table, "I really don't know exactly what is there, he didn't have time to tell me and I just scanned them."

"Jacques, darling," Vanessa chimed, "do you know where the dogs are?"

"Erm, I would guess they are sleeping in the study, why?"

"I was just curious. I have not seen them all day."

"You have dogs now?" Charles asked, "When did that happen?"

"Two years ago," Vanessa said pointedly, "but since you have been in England and have not visited in so long, you would not have known that."

"Vanessa, do not be unfair," Charles said, "I have seen him in the past two years. I visited my family for Christmas and Easter."

Erik sighed quietly as they went back and forward on family matters. Who visited who, where it happened and whether or not someone should have visited someone else. Vanessa made several points on her husband's health, which he shot down. Erik picked up one of the documents and started to read it.

He was rudely interrupted by the clacking of claws against the hardwood as two large wolfhounds entered the roof, mouths open and tongues lolling out one side in a dopey grin. One went straight for him and shoved its cold nose into his crotch.

"Ugh!" he groaned, shoving the dog back, "that is not how you act in polite company."

"I think he likes you, Sabina," Charles laughed.

"Yes, well I am not particularly fond of him," Erik grumbled as the large dog attempted to push its nose under his hand. His companion quickly joined him, laying a large head on his leg.

"They like you, Monsieur Sabina," Vanessa laughed, "how nice, are they not beautiful creatures?"

"They are large and disgusting creatures," Erik corrected, pushing both dogs away and brushing the back side of his hand over his pants. There was a large spot of drool on them.

"They are a bit too friendly at times," Jacques laughed, as the two dogs made their ways awkwardly to investigate each of the new visitors.

"Wolfhounds, eh?" Charles asked, "Doing any hunting, brother?"

"No, no. These two dopes wouldn't know how, but they make decent companions and enjoy running alongside the horses."

"Don't you like dogs, Sabina?" Charles asked, stifling a laugh as the smaller of the two flopped across his feet.

"Not particularly," he grumbled, "as a whole they are not bad animals.

"Well Rosa seems to like you," Vanessa teased, "don't you, you lovely girl? It seems at least one woman fancies you."

Erik suppressed a growl, causing it to come out more a strangled cough than anything else. Danielle gave his a slightly worried look, but he managed to arrange his face in a passive manner and ignored her look.

"Sick?" Vanessa asked.

"Quite well, thank you…get off!"

The other dog gave a whimper at Erik's harsh tone and scampered away from the piano, where he had been resting his paws. Erik returned his gaze to the others and gave a small shrug of self contempt. He didn't want to care that the stupid dog was scratching the surface of the instrument, but it bothered him none the less.

"Thank you, I'd hate for my piano to be scratched," Jacques said, pushing the dog into a sitting position, "no one here plays, but it was from my mother, so I keep it around."

"Do you play, Monsieur?" Danielle asked.

"What would give you that idea?" Erik asked a bit irritably.

"I don't know, you just seem like you would…does that sound foolish?"

"Quite," Vanessa said, "but I am curious as well…do you?"

"No…not anymore," he nearly hit himself for that. Obviously then he had played, which would give that vixen, Vanessa, something new to torture him with.

"Oh, so you used to play?" she asked innocently.

"Yes."

"How long ago?"

"Not long."

"Well then, you are not too out of practise. Perhaps you could play something for us, hmm?"

"I would rather not."

"Come now, would it really be that terrible? Just a little ditty, please?"

"I said I would rather not, and I would like to leave it at that."

The dogs both gave slight whimpers and scurried as best they could from the room. Charles cast a nervous glance in Erik's direction, hearing that edge on his voice that he had learned meant nothing good. Even Danielle was biting her lip and looking rapidly between Erik and Vanessa.

"Perhaps another time?" Raoul spoke up.

"Oh shut up!" Erik snapped at him.

"Let me rephrase what I said," Vanessa crooned, staring him directly in the eyes, "play something for us, Monsieur Sabina. Does our hospitality not even earn us a song?"

Erik's fists clenched convulsively on the arms of the chair, and he stood up stiffly, making his way towards the piano.

"Very well," he hissed, throwing the cover back to reveal the keys.

He glared at the keys for a moment before sitting down on the bench and adjusting it so that it suited him perfectly. He then spent a moment adjusting his sleeves before depressing several of the keys in turn, listening to ensure it was properly tuned.

"It is tunes every six months," Vanessa chimed, "so there is no need to test it so."

Erik gave a small snot and crashed his fingers into the keys with such a force it seemed that he would break them. Danielle gave a small squeak of surprise and Raoul flinched.

Erik chose a personal composition, one which assaulted the senses. One filled with such rage, pain and hatred that, when he finished and turned towards them, left each one with a look as if they had been struck across the face. All except Raoul, who looked utterly terrified.

"I trust you enjoyed that," Erik spat, standing abruptly, "now, if you do not mind, I am going to bed. Good night!"

With that he swept from the room, leaving them all in a stunned silence. Charles swallowed heavily and turned towards the door where he had disappeared.

"Well," Vanessa said breathlessly, "what a unique composition."

-------------------------------

**A/N: Well here you go, another chapter. Please leave me some reviews as I am sick and they will make me feel better...though I seriously doubt I could feel much worse.**


	22. XXII

**XXII**

Christine sighed. She was sitting in the large, overstuffed armchair, her legs drawn up against her chest and her chin resting on them. It was just her and Meg home for the evening, and her friend was making hot chocolate in the kitchen for them. It was a bit of a chilly night, and it had been a hard day at the theatre.

"Hey, you alright?" Meg asked, handing Christine a mug, "you've been really quiet lately. Are you not feeling well?"

"No, I feel fine…well, maybe I'm feeling a bit…I don't know, off, I guess."

"What do you mean?" Meg asked, sitting opposite her friend, "you've been so quiet since that party. Did something happen, is everything fine between you and Raoul? He got you that necklace…"

"No, it isn't that. Things are fine…well I guess they're fine, I don't really know anymore," Christine sighed, "I just…we aren't engaged again, and I know he doesn't understand why, and I don't even know why! I love him, right? And that should be enough, it really should but…I guess I don't know…I just don't know what I want."

"What do you mean?" Meg asked, "Christine, you can tell me if something is wrong. You know that right? Anything, anything at all, you can tell me."

"He keeps talking to me about marriage, about getting engaged and them being married and going to Spain and glamorous parties…and every time I find myself dreading the direction of the conversation. I change the subject, or rush into the house, or tell him I need more time…but I don't know if time will do it."

"But you love him, rights?" Meg asked gently, "I mean at the theatre he was always with you, watching over you and making sure you were alright. You always looked so happy together…maybe it's because you aren't seeing him enough?"

"I don't think so, Meg…I find don't really mind him being off so much. And the theatre? Well, that was then and this is now. Everything was so confusing then…it still is…and I don't even know my own feelings and its driving me mad!"

"Well he's gone for a few days again, right? So maybe you can take the time to clear your head and think. You know, really work through it…I wish I could help, but I really don't understand it all."

"I know," Christine murmured, sipping her drink, "and I'm so grateful you'll listen to me…even if I am rambling like a loon."

"That's what I'm here for, to be your friend when you need one."

Christine gave a small nod of her head and sipped her drink again. Sometimes it felt good to get things off her chest, to let someone else know what she was thinking and going through. But one thing still rested heavily on her mind. And that was _him_, Erik. Seeing him again, knowing he was alive…it had made her feel so…happy?

"What if I told you that I met someone at that party, Meg? Someone I once knew very well…someone who I betrayed?"

"What are you talking about?" Meg asked, brow furrowing in confusion, "who have you betrayed, Christine?"

"Someone who was very dear to me, who made me feel like the world…someone who loved me and-and who I love…I think."

"I don't know," Meg replied truthfully.

"That's what I thought," Christine sighed, "I just-I wish I could see him again…have the chance to talk with him, or something…Meg, I feel so unsure, I don't even know what my own heart thinks."

"Maybe you just aren't listening close enough," Meg suggested.

"Maybe…or maybe it's just saying too many things too loudly. That's what it feels like at least."

"Christine, who did you meet at that party? Who was it?"

Christine didn't answer, and when she did it was so quietly that Meg couldn't hear. To her it sounded like Angel, and then Erik, but she could not be sure.

"Meg, did you go with the mob that night?" Christine asked suddenly, "To his lair, did you?"

"Y-yes," Meg said reluctantly, "I-I did…but, well, we couldn't find anything, or anyone there…just a lot of stuff. I mean, really a lot! It was like he had everything down there, oh! But you don't want to hear about it."

"No, I do," Christine assured her, "no one ever talks about it, they always dodge around it and I'm tired of it! I don't mind…not like people seem to think. They all just tell be how horrible it was. But it wasn't, not really, and no one will listen when I say that."

"The police said we shouldn't talk about it, that he was gone and probably…well, you know?" Meg said softly.

"All the papers claimed it…that he probably died in the fire," Christine whispered, "and it hurt…it hurt so badly to think that. And I felt wrong for hurting, because of what he did to everyone, and to me and Raoul. But I couldn't help it…it made me sad."

"You look tired, Christine, maybe we should go to bed. I'm kind of tired too, it was along day."

"Yeah…I guess so," Christine agreed, "when is Madame getting home?"

"Not until late, she said. But we have a matinee tomorrow, so she told me that we shouldn't' stay up."

Christine nodded and they both went to bed Christine felt better for talking to Meg, though she was still confused. She was just glad that Meg seemed to understand, that she didn't look at her like she was crazy.

So she climbed into bed and allowed herself into a sleep filled with dreams of music and fire. She woke up crying, but it felt good to do so. To finally let some of it out.

* * *

**A/N: Short chapter, I know, but hopefully still enjoyable. Anyways, drop me a review if you please, I do love to get them.**


	23. XXIII

XXIII

Erik stifled a yawn as he sat in the parlour, the smaller of the two wolfhounds dozing on his feet. He had been unable to sleep the night before, and since it looked like rain they had gone out to the site early, forcing him out of bed. Now he was reviewing the notes he had made regarding the site.

It had been a nice enough piece of land, though perhaps a bit small. It was fairly flat with enough room for a large house and a small stable. Or a large stable and a small house, if that was what they wanted. Unfortunately Vanessa had gone with them, criticising his work at every turn. Especially his messy writing.

"I'm the only one who has to read it," Erik grumbled, re-reading the messy scrawl of his, "so I don't' see why it matters…what do you think?"

The dog, Rosa, as she had been called just looked up at him. Erik gave a small snort and sighed. That woman had already managed to work her way under his skin. Something that he admitted was not terribly difficult, but she had managed to irritate him more than even Charles did.

"So why are you not off with your friend?" he asked Rosa, "I believe he is outside with the others, running in the yard."

Rosa yawned widely and rested her head on her paws. She didn't seem to want to leave. Erik sighed and tried shifting his feet, which had fallen asleep aged ago. It didn't work, she stayed firmly placed. Just like that fat cat that Fleur insisted on keeping in the house.

"My feet are asleep," he informed her, "perhaps you could move?"

"Talking to dogs now, Sabina?" Charles chuckled, entering the room.

"They make far better company than the likes of you," Erik retorted, "what do you want?"

"I wanted to know what you were up to. You know, it really is nice out, despite the clouds. Why don't you come out and have some tea with us?"

"Would your brother's lovely wife be there?"

"Well yes, but-"

"Then I will stay exactly where I am," Erik said firmly, "Rosa and I were having a thrilling conversation, thank you."

"Fine, talk with the dog if you want," Charles sighed, "just know that you are welcome outside."

"Thank you."

"Supper will be in two hours, in case you were wondering…we're doing a bit of archery outside."

"You do not want a weapon in my hands, trust me."

"Well then, see you at supper…"

"In case you forgot, you were just leaving me alone."

After eating they all moved back into the parlour, where Erik had left his notes, and sat down. Vanessa plucked one of them from the table before he could gather them and clucked her tongue.

"This is nearly illegible," she complained, "how on earth could anyone read this?"

"Usually with one's eyes," Erik snapped back, snatching the paper from her hand and gathering the rest, "at least I would presume that is how."

"Will-will the ground be suitable?" Raoul asked.

"It should be fine," Erik replied, "I could not find anything wrong with it."

"That is good," Raoul muttered, "father will be pleased."

"Hmm, yes he should be. I'll give you some of my notes to take to him, just promise that you will not lose them," Erik said.

"And how is he supposed to read them?" Vanessa asked, "Honestly, you should practise better penmanship."

"I shall do it in all my spare time," Erik grumbled.

"You should, I have seen five year olds with better writing than you."

"They must be very talented five year olds."

"Say, would anyone care for some cognac?" Jacques asked, "I believe I have a very good bottle over here."

"Of course," Charles said, "Raoul, Sabina?"

"Yes," Raoul muttered at the same time Erik said, "Fine."

"Splendid, four glasses then. You'll enjoy this one, it's a very expensive bottle and I don't get into it as much as I would like."

Soon they found themselves sitting with brandy snifters in their hands, each half filled with the amber coloured liquid. Erik spent most of his time swirling it around in the glass, as he didn't particularly like the taste of it.

"Good, isn't it?" Jacques asked.

Erik took a sip and nearly choked on it, "Quite."

"Good to know, care to have it topped off?"

"No," he said, covering the glass with his hand, "I believe this will be more than enough."

Jacques shrugged and proceeded to re-fill Raoul's and Charles' glasses. Erik gave a small smirk; he had a feeling that by the end of the night they would both be at least a little drunk.

"Monsieur Sabina, why don't you entertain us with another song," Vanessa suggested, "I'm sure we'd all like to hear what else you know.

Raoul visibly paled and took a gulp of his drink. Erik gripped his glass and swallowed the remaining contents of it and gave a small grimace.

"If you insist," he choked out, "Madame Armand."

"I do…perhaps something more cheerful, hmm?"

* * *

Christine gave a small sigh as she fiddled with her necklace, watching as the light glinted off the pearl. The younger girls were still going through their warm-ups, so she and Meg were sitting off to the side watching.

"Isn't Raoul coming back in two days?" Meg asked casually.

"Hmm? Oh, yes he is," Christine murmured, "I hope he had a good time. He said he was going with Monsieur Charles Armand. They're good friends."

"Christine, Meg!" Antoinette called, "come, it is time for lessons to begin."

Christine and Meg got up and began to help with the lessons. Mostly they were used to demonstrate proper form and parts of dances. Soon the corps would be choosing which of the younger girls would be joining and which ones would be leaving and which ones would be staying.

"The recital is in one week, girls," Antoinette announced, "so you must remain focussed and try your hardest."

"Give it all you've got," Meg encouraged, "you all have a lot of talent; you can do it if you try."

"Indeed," Antoinette said, "If Meg and Christine could make it, then you can as well."

"Yeah," Meg said, "we were once talentless, clumsy little girls."

"No talent at all," Christine agreed.

Antoinette gave a small chuckle, "Oui, but they worked hard and put their hearts into it and look at what they have become. Beautiful young dancers, with much talent. You can do the same."

"So go and stretch," Christine said, "and we'll see you all tomorrow."

The girls all hurried out and Meg and Christine went to get changed out of their practise skirts before heading out to the streets. Antoinette bid them farewell, telling them that she had to speak with the manager before leaving for the day.

"Christine, did you tell maman that you wanted to meet Raoul when he comes back?" Meg asked.

"I told her last night," Christine said, shoving her shoes and skirts into a bag, "she said it would be fine. He isn't arriving until the evening, so I won't have to miss classes or anything."

"Wonderful!" Meg beamed, "oh, did you hear?"

"Hear what?" Christine asked.

"The next performance. We're going to be in it. And it's not even just a small matinee, it's a big deal!"

"Really? That's wonderful, Meg!"

"Mm hmm, rehearsals start in three days."

"When is the actual performance?"

"The end of the month," Meg sighed, "it isn't long to rehearse, like we're used to, but it also isn't as big."

"It will still be nice."

"I wish you could sing in it," Meg murmured, "I haven't heard you sing in so long."

"I'd rather dance," Christine lied.

"You should sing, Christine, you have an amazing talent, it should be shared with the world."

Christine shrugged her shoulders and they walked out onto the busy streets and towards their house, "We could stop by the café on the way home."

"I'd like that," Meg said, "we could get something there, like an éclair!"

"Meg," Christine scolded, though she really didn't find the though unappealing.

"You suggested we go," Meg teased, "you were thinking the exact same thing."

Christine gave a small smile, it was true, she had been thinking the same thing, "Yeah I guess I was."


	24. XXIV

XXIV

The last full day of their stay found Erik thoroughly exhausted, both mentally and physically. He had never before thought that three days could be so draining, but with Vanessa dogging him at every turn he quickly found any of the good temper he had arrived with had eroded to almost nothing.

"Are you feeling well, Monsieur?" Danielle asked, "You look very pale."

"Just tired," Erik sighed, knowing full well that he did not look well. He didn't feel well either.

"We leave tomorrow," she said encouragingly, causing him to give a sharp laugh.

"Indeed. Not soon enough."

"Monsieur, may I ask you a question?"

"It seems that you have already done so," Erik pointed out, taking a seat in the parlour, "but continue."

"Oh yes, I guess I have," she murmured, "I was just curious…the music you play, it's very…well-"

"Angry," Erik offered.

"Yes, that…why is that?"

"Music is a painful reminder of something that never was and can never be…I hate it."

Danielle nodded her head very slowly, "Oh…I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"Excuse me," Raoul said, knocking lightly on the door, "supper is about to be served."

They went into the dining room and Erik's fist clenched at his sides when he caught sight of Vanessa. She gave them an icy smile and motioned for them to sit down. Erik did so without saying a word. He didn't entirely trust himself not to say something inappropriate.

"Our final meal together," she said, "I hope you enjoy lamb, Monsieur Sabina."

"Thoroughly," he ground out. He hated the way she stared at his mask whenever she talked, though she never actually made mention of it.

"I trust that you have a nice song picked out for us tonight, I am interesting in hearing another one of your interesting selections."

"Indeed."

"Oh, so cold. Do you like the wine, Monsieur Sabina?"

"It is decent," he said, "though I have had better."

"Have you?"

"Yes, I used to collect fine wines…I dare say I might still have some of them."

"Really, what kinds do you have?" Jacques asked.

Erik gave a small shrug of his shoulders, "I had many different types. Too many to name."

"Hmm, Raoul, do you have any plans upon returning to Paris?" Vanessa asked, apparently bored with Erik.

"Umm, actually, I do have some plans," he said, glancing at Erik, "that is if my father doesn't send me away again."

"And what are these plans?"

"Well, actually, they are somewhat private," he said nervously.

"Come on, spit it out," Vanessa said, "It cannot be that private; otherwise you would have said nothing."

"I'm going to propose," He said, "to Christine…Mademoiselle Daae."

Erik's grip on his wine glass tightened to the point where it almost broke, but he managed to control himself enough to keep the delicate stem in tact. Instead he lifted it and swallowed the rest of the contents in one gulp. He then replaced it on the table with a bit more force than necessary.

"Oh. You are proposing to the dancer?" she asked distastefully, "how…lovely."

"I am," Raoul said a bit forcefully.

"Well I suppose it is your choice," Vanessa sighed, "comes, let us move to the parlour. I trust that Monsieur Sabina has another entertaining little song for us."

* * *

Erik sighed and sat down at the piano when they entered the room. He was too tried to put up much of a protest. And hearing the boy declare that he was going to propose had provided him with a mixture of both anger and sadness. The anger had mostly come from the distaste in Vanessa's voice, while the deep sadness came from the fact that, most likely within a week, Christine would be promised to that boy again. Leaving him alone in the world. 

"Well?" Vanessa asked as he stared at the keys.

Erik lifted his hand and depressed three keys in succession, allowing the gentle notes to drift through the air. He didn't feel like playing the angry songs he had pounded out the previous nights. In fact, he did not feel like playing at all. So he left those three lonely notes to hang in the air as the hollow feeling in his chest became almost painful.

"Monsieur, are you alright?" Danielle asked gently.

Erik gave a small shake of his head, "I'm not feeling very well. Perhaps I should retire…"

"You do look a bit pale," Jacques said, "if you'd like you can go to bed early. You wouldn't want to be sick on the journey back."

"Maybe I will," he muttered, pressing out the melody of a melancholy song.

The notes hung in the air, a familiar tune that caused Raoul to turn away. Once the last note had finally died Erik stood up and made his way from the room, looking thoroughly exhausted. Charles watched him go with concern etched on his face, and even Raoul had to admit that he did not look well and that he felt a pang of sympathy for him.

"Well that was a far gentler song," Vanessa murmured, "would anyone care for some tea or coffee before bed?"

"Why don't you have the cook make up some tea?" Jacques asked, "It would be nice, I think."

She left the room and Charles sighed, "What a sad little tune that was."

"Yes," Raoul agreed, he could still remember hearing it as he rode through the cemetery, carried to him on the wind.

"I hope he is feeling alright," Danielle commented, "he looked unwell most of the day."

"I agree," Charles said, "perhaps someone should go check on him…"

"I could," Raoul offered, cursing himself even as the words left his mouth.

"That's very kind of you," Charles said, raising an eyebrow, "I didn't think you liked Sabina."

"Well if he is unwell then-"

"What are you two whispering about?" Vanessa asked, returning to the room.

"I was just saying that I'm a bit tired," Raoul said, faking a yawn, "so I was thinking of going to bed. Good night."

"Are you certain? The tea will be ready in just a few minutes."

"Its fine," Raoul said, standing up and giving a small bow, "good night."

"Check on Sabina then, will you?" Charles asked, "To make sure he's feeling alright."

"Of course," Raoul said, loosening his cravat as he exited the room, just to make a bit more convincing.

* * *

Raoul cursed himself as he went up the stairs. Why had he offered to go check on him, he hated the man didn't he? No, he didn't hate him, not entirely. No matter how hard he tried he found that he could not hate the man completely and it made no sense. He had terrorized an entire theatre, frightened his beloved Christine, he had seduced her, kidnapped her, murdered others and had attempted to kill him as well. He hated all those things, but for some reason he didn't feel that he hated Erik, he just hated what he had done. But Erik hated him, and he knew that by the way he looked at him and the way he spoke to him. Beneath his perfectly masked face he could see the hatred burning within his eyes, he had heard it in his music, and it frightened him. 

Still, behind that hatred was a deep sadness, and he had seen it at his mention of marriage to Christine. He hadn't wanted to mention it, partly out of fear for Erik's reaction, and partly because he didn't want to rub it in his face. But Vanessa was a difficult person to refuse, and he had seen her personality grinding away the little patience that Erik seemed to have. He had been afraid that the man would break and fly into one of the rages that had once petrified the Opera Populaire.

Wandering child so lost so helpless…He could hear the words as he had played out that stupid little song…_Have you forgotten your angel?_

He could hear the words as he had played out that stupid little song… 

"No," he sighed, approaching the door, "she hasn't…even before she saw you."

Angel of Music! You denied me… turning from true beauty…Angel of Music! Do not shun me…Come to your strange Angel! Raoul shook his head and debated whether he would knock on the door or simply pass by. He didn't' really have to check on him, he could just claim to and tell Charles and Danielle that he was fine, just tired. But that somehow seemed wrong to him.

Very slowly and quietly he turned the handle of the door and pushed it open just enough to see inside. It was dark, with only one light on, casting an eerie, shadowy orange glow around the room. Erik stood at the window, staring out into the night. Raoul could see his face reflected there, the left half in shadow and the mask brightly reflected against the dark glass. He heard a sharp intake of breath and knew that he was crying.

With a sigh he closed the door as silently as he had opened it and leaned against the frame. Why was it so hard to hate a man who had done so much wrong? Perhaps it was because of the story that Madame Giry had told him.

"How is he?" Charles asked, coming up beside him, Danielle at his side.

"I didn't go in," Raoul muttered, "but I think he's fine."

"Maybe we should check on him," Danielle suggested, resting her hand on the doorknob, "he looked really upset about-"

She was cut off as the sound of glass shattering broke through the air. With a small gasp she turned the knob and opened the door just as Erik withdrew his hand from the window, allowing the broken glass to fall to the floor.

Danielle and Charles rushed into the room first, followed reluctantly by Raoul. For a moment it appeared that he hadn't been hurt, but then the blood welled to the top of the numerous small cuts on his hand, and the large one that ran from his pals to just above the wrist. Danielle tried to reach for his hand, but he withdrew it quickly, spattering blood across the floor.

"Don't touch me!" he snarled.

"You're hurt," she said gently, "look, its bleeding."

"I don't care;" he said quietly, "leave me alone!"

"Sabina!" Charles exclaimed "do not speak to my wife in such a way. Now what the hell happened here?"

"I broke the window," Erik replied sardonically, "what does it look like?"

"I can see that! Why?"

Erik gave a small shrug of self contempt, "I lost my temper."

Danielle was still trying to see his hand, which he managed to keep just out of her view, "Please, Monsieur, there could be glass in it."

"I said don't touch me!" he repeated.

"Sabina!"

"Just let her look!" Raoul said, taking a step forward and reaching for his arm.

Erik turned and lashed out at him, catching him squarely in the chest with his forearm. A loud whump resounded through the room as Raoul staggered backwards, barely catching himself before falling over. He gave a small grunt and rubbed the spot on his chest where Erik had hit him.

"Sabina, that was uncalled for," Charles said angrily.

Some of the anger was replaced with fear when Erik turned on him, eyes blazing, and bore down on him, "Leave me alone, Armand!"

"You've hurt yourself," Charles said, regaining his composure and standing up to the taller man, "and you have no right to be angry with us. So calm down and let Danielle help you!"

"What is going on?" Vanessa asked from outside the partially closed door.

Erik's gaze refocused to the door and his fists clenched at his sides, "If she enters this room I will kill her!" he hissed.

"Raoul," Charles breathed, "go and make something up to get rid of her," Charles said, somehow believing what Erik had said.

Raoul nodded and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him. For a minute their voices could be heard outside, and then the sound of footsteps. Charles took the opportunity to step back from Erik and take a deep breath.

"Now, Sabina let my wife have a look at your hand," he ordered.

Erik gave a small snort, but allowed Danielle to lift his hand away from his side. She guided him over to the bed and had him sit down and open it, revealing the large cut on his palm.

"You should be more careful," she murmured, "you could have really hurt yourself."

"I'll be fine, I assure you," he replied bitterly, "I have suffered far more life threatening injuries."

"There doesn't seem to be any glass in the cuts," Danielle said, squinting in the dim light, "you got lucky."

"You know you really shouldn't go breaking windows," Charles scolded.

"Humph, it was either that or her neck," Erik snorted.

"Hmmm…"

"Ah, now the window seems to have suffered undo pain, hasn't it?" Erik asked.

"You shouldn't say such things," Danielle said, though there was little conviction, "now hold still while I wash out these cuts."

Erik waited patiently as Danielle washed out the cuts, taking care to wipe away every bit of blood and double check for slivers of glass. She was very careful, minding the cuts so she wouldn't cause him any more pain and wrapped it very carefully afterwards.

"You have scars on your wrists," she commented after tying it off, "how did-"

"I smashed a mirror as a child," he shrugged.

"Oh…so it's a habit then?" she asked.

He gave a small laugh and shook his head, "I suppose it is."

"Vanessa will not be pleased that you broke her window," Charles sighed, peering out through the hole.

Erik glowered, "I assure you I can pay to replace the pane."

"Don't bother," Charles laughed, "its her own bloody fault…speaking of which, I think you stained the carpet."

Erik glanced down at the floor, where several smatterings of his blood had soaked into the cream coloured carpet. He had always thought it foolish to have light colours on the floor, after all that was where most spills occurred. It was sort of like having a white lace table cloth. Pointless. With a shrug he flopped backwards on the bed and stared at the ceiling, nearly taking Danielle with him.

"That's my wife," Charles chided.

"She can't resist me," Erik teased, grasping her hand and giving a devilish smirk, can you, my dear?"

Danielle blushed and gave a small giggle, "Quite so, Monsieur. Oh, but what will my husband think?"

"To hell with what he thinks!" Erik teased, "Come away with me."

Charles rolled his eyes and thumped Erik's chest playfully, "You suffer from mood swings. And hands off my wife. And I expect you to apologize to Raoul for hitting him. That was quite uncalled for."

"He deserved it," Erik snorted, "he is a stupid boy who doesn't know when to leave well enough alone!"

Charles shook his head and took Danielle's hand, "Good night, Sabina. I will see you in the morning…when we leave."

"Finally," Erik grumbled, "remind me never to go on another trip with you."

"Good night, Monsieur," Danielle laughed, "see you at breakfast."


	25. XXV

XXV

Getting back on the train was the best part of the trip for Erik. The morning had been terribly awkward, as Danielle didn't want him to remove the wrapping on his hand, and Vanessa was curious as to what had happened. As it turned out Raoul wasn't a terribly good story teller and had merely mentioned something about a mirror.

"Well I am glad to be on the train," Charles sighed, "I am looking forward to returning home. Aren't you, Sabina?"

"Paris will be welcome," Erik agreed, "I cannot stand Rouen."

"The window saw that," Charles chuckled, "don't worry; I will never force Vanessa upon you again."

"If you ever try I assure you that you will be sorely missing your head," Erik grumbled.

"Ah, witty as ever," Charles sighed, "tell me, what are you doing upon your return to Paris?"

Erik shrugged his shoulders; he didn't really have any plans. He did not have a job and he didn't have anything else to do. After all, living under a theatre for most of your life left you with very few friends to visit. He was actually considering seeking out employment, as he knew that doing nothing would drive him mad.

"I may look into finding some new employment," he muttered, "however that is a moot point. It will really depend on my mood."

"You don't' have a job at the moment?" Danielle asked, looking worried.

"It is not a problem," he said, "I assure you; I have more than enough money to keep my house."

"Are you certain?" she asked.

He gave a light chuckle, "Indeed, I am positive. Truthful I have enough money at my disposal to build a palace."

"Then why did you charge so much for my estate?" Charles asked.

"Because I am the greatest architect in Paris and you should consider yourself lucky to have found me," Erik replied saucily.

"Modest, aren't you?" Raoul muttered.

Erik ignored the comment and looked out the window, hoping the train would start moving soon. Two more men entered the car and sat down, talking quietly to each other and reading the newspaper. Charles gave a small nod to acknowledge their presence before turning back to his wife.

"Danielle, why don't we tell Sabina what we were discussing last night?" he asked.

"You mean about…that?"

"Yes, what else?"

"Have you decided to run away with me after all?" Erik asked, resting his head against his hand, "I must say it is a good choice, I do not know what you see in him."

Danielle gave a small giggle, "No, my husband and I were interested in inviting you to a small affair."

"What sort of affair?"

"Just a small party," Charles said, waving it off, "there were a few friends, well acquaintances that were interested in your work. I thought that you might want to meet some of them. After all, you are unemployed at the moment."

"I am not interested," Erik said abruptly.

"Oh?" Charles asked, "And why is that?"

"Because I so not wish to meet anyone," he replied, "I am more than capable of finding my own employment and I do not wish to attend another long and boring party. Thank you."

"If you say so," Charles sighed, "still, I think that it would-"

The sound of the train whistle cut him off and the train slowly started to move forward, gathering speed as it left the station. Erik quickly and pointedly turned his face towards the window and watched as the scenery whipped by. Charles didn't bother trying to talk to him; he had learned that Erik's hard headedness was unrivalled.

So the train travelled on and Erik stared out the window, even as fat raindrops splattered against it, rolling off in the wind. Charles Raoul had taken up a conversation with the other two men and Danielle was remaining politely quiet, just as she always did. It was almost surreal to him. To be sitting quietly and almost contently with three other people. It was a new and somewhat unsettling sensation as he stared at himself reflected in the window, the grey raindrops smearing his face.

"Are you alright?" Danielle asked quietly.

"Hmm?" he frowned, turning away from the window and removing his fingers from the cold glass. When he had placed them there he wasn't quite sure.

"You looked distracted," she said, "is something bothering you?"

"No," he lied, "I was just thinking about something."

"Oh, and what was that?"

He gave a small shrug, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in the small car, "Of what I will do upon returning to Paris."

"There is always the party," Danielle reminded him, "it would be so nice if you would consider coming, Monsieur. Don't you think that you would enjoy it?"

Erik nearly laughed, him enjoy a party? That was not likely to happen anytime soon. Somehow being stuck in a room with countless people, all of whom seemed to stare at his mask was not something he enjoyed. No, the closeness to people would have almost been enough to put him off; he could still barely stand the streets at certain times. A party was far from what he would enjoy; solitary confinement would have provided more amusement.

"Perhaps," he murmured at length, "I will consider your offer."

She smiled at him and looked past him and out the window, "I hope it will stop raining before we arrive."

"It will pass," Erik said, looking at the sky, "the sun is already starting to show through."

"Maybe there'll be a rainbow," she said, leaning a bit closer to the window.

Erik did his best to pull back without appearing to do so and nodded his head, "Perhaps. But I would not count on it."

"You are too pessimistic, Monsieur," she said, "You should try to look on the bright side more, be positive."

"Fine, then I am positive that is will most likely not happen," he said.

She gave him a confused look and was about to say something when Charles' voice interrupted her, "Sabina, would you like to join in on a game of poker?"

"No I would not," he replied curtly, "I would like to be left in peace."

"Come now, it will be fun," one of the other men laughed, "We're putting a little money on the game."

"I would rather not," Erik repeated.

"You are no fun at all, Sabina," Charles sighed, "fine, don't play…he's probably just afraid to lose."

"I am not afraid, young man," Erik grumbled, "if anything you should be thanking me for not playing. I suspect I am saving you a fair amount of money."

"Oh? Prove it."

"Fine, I will."

* * *

Christine sighed as she waited at the train station. People were milling around her, making her increasingly more uncomfortable with each passing minute. True, most of them were doing exactly as she was, waiting for the train from Rouen to arrive to greet family, friends and lovers. Still, she didn't like the closeness or the ruckus of the platform. It was almost worse than backstage at the theatre. 

"Excuse me," she asked, tapping another woman on the shoulder, "when is the train supposed to arrive?"

"Five minutes ago," she replied huffily, "it is always late…bother; I'm waiting for my husband. I should have known! The train is never on time."

"Oh, thank you," Christine said, moving away to a less crowded part of the platform to wait. At least the rain had stopped, though it had only cleared up ten minutes ago.

It was another fifteen minutes before the train finally pulled into the station and several of the other people had left the station. Either tired of waiting, or tired of the looming grey clouds that were constantly threatening to open up again.

Christine hurried forward as the train finally squealed to a stop and realized that she did not know which car they would be in. She was fortunate though, for as she worried in place Raoul emerged from the car in front of her looking tired and rumpled from travelling.

"Raoul," she said, smiling at him.

"Christine," he replied, a broad smile gracing his features, "what a surprise, why are you here?"

"Madame said I could come and meet you," she said, allowing him to steal a quick kiss, "did you have a good trip?"

It just got a great deal better," he replied, "I hope you didn't wait in the rain."

"No I-Monsieur Armand!" she said, seeing him, "how are you?"

"Ah, Miss Daae," he smiled, "I am well, and you?"

"Very well," she replied, smiling at Danielle as she left the car, "did you have a pleasant trip?"

"Visiting my sister in law?" he asked, wrinkling his nose, "I should say not."

She gave a small laugh at that and turned back to Raoul, "I thought you said there was -"

"Miss Daae?" she was interrupted by the all too familiar tenor voice and whirled around to see Erik standing on the platform, just behind Charles, his eyes slightly larger with surprise.

"You remember," Charles teased.

"Good evening, Monsieur," she said, trying hard not to stumble over the words, "and-and did you have a pleasant trip?"

He slowly shook his head before regaining his composure a little, "No, I cannot say that I did."

"Oh…that's a shame."

"Is it?"

Christine didn't know how to respond to the cold remark and found herself drifting away from Raoul. She had thought that she would be able to talk to him this time. She had certainly thought about it. She had convinced herself not to stammer or stare, and here she was doing exactly that. Staring at him and unable to speak she gave a small smile.

"Well after such a long trip I suspect we're all hungry," Charles said, apparently not noticing the awkwardness, or trying to end it, "why don't we all go to supper? We are all here after all."

"I would-"

"Rather not," Charles finished for Erik.

"Exactly…" Erik said warily. He knew there was going to be an attempt to keep him there any minute now.

"But Mademoiselle Daae had not seen you since the party, and you did not make the most astounding impression then. So come to supper and show her that you really can be a gentleman," Charles said, "a second impression, perhaps?"

Erik went to clench his fist but found that it hurt too much with the barely healed cuts and gave a low growl, "I would rather not, Armand. The trip was long and I am tired. I apologize, Mademoiselle."

"Its fine," Christine murmured, averting her eyes a bit, "I hope you, umm, have a good rest."

"Merci, Mademoiselle," he said, giving a small bow and lifting her hand, "I hope you enjoy your supper."

Christine blushed slightly as he kissing her hand and swept away, moving with long purposeful strides away from them and the crowded platform. Charles sighed and shook his head as he left.

"Well then, I guess it will just be the four of us," he murmured, "oh well, I guess you'll have to meet him again another time."

"That's fine," Christine said, hoping to hide her disappointment, "he looked tired, and his hand was injured, wasn't it?"

"You're observant," Charles said, "he had a bit of an accident while we were away."

"Yes," Raoul agreed, "he had a disagreement with a window pane…and my chest."

"Yes, yes, Sabina does have a bit of a temper. But let's leave that story for later, right now I am hungry. Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry I took so long with this chapter, but I had to finish it and blah blah blah. Also my father and I are havign a series of "disagreements" so in all his maturiy last night he took all the track balls from teh mice so that I couldn't use the computer...apparently he forgot about the old one in the basement (as well as the fact that other people in teh house use the computer). So, barring him stealing my CD I should have an update up faster next time...the war goes on. Please drop me a review, as I really really liek them and could use a lift!**


	26. XXVI

XXVI

Christine found that she enjoyed the night out with Raoul and the Armands. They were nice people, and made her feel welcome, and Raoul seemed so happy to see her that he kept her in the carriage as long as possible before allowing her to go back inside.

"Raoul, I have to go. I have rehearsal in the morning," she said at last, cutting him off during another story.

"I've just missed you so much over these past weeks," he sighed, "but that will all end soon, won't it?"

"Oh, I guess," she said, slightly confused, "why don't you come to the performance at the end of the month? Meg and I are in it."

"Of course, Christine. I'd love to," he said, stealing a final kiss, "but you must promise me that you will attend a small affair, a party that Charles invited me to. It is in a week."

"Of course," Christine said, freeing herself from the carriage, "good night, Raoul."

"Good night, Christine," he sighed.

She offered him another smile before disappearing into the house and giving a small sigh herself. She could see the lights on in the parlour and knew that someone was up. Most likely Antoinette waiting to ensure she got home before it was too late. She smiled to herself at that; it was so nice to know that there were people out there that cared enough to do things like that.

"I'm home," she called quietly, poking her head into the parlour, "Madame?"

"I heard you," she said, looking up from a piece of paper, "did you have a good time?"

"Yes, Monsieur Armand invited us to supper. I hope you don't mind that I went."

"Not at all, you still made it home at a decent hour."

"Good…what are you reading?" she asked, curling up in one of the arm chairs.

"A letter from my friend, Pierre," she replied, tilting it slightly.

"Oh, we stayed with him at Christmas last year, right?" Christine asked.

"Oui, and Colette and her little girl, Fleur," Antoinette agreed.

"How are they?"

"Fine, Pierre has been telling me that there is another man helping Colette with the farm now and that the town is as boring as ever. But they are all well."

"Another man?" Christine asked, smiling a little, "she was a widow, right?"

"Yes, and you are beginning to sound like Meg."

Christine gave a small laugh, "I'm sorry, it just seemed like, well, you know…what's his name?"

"Richard. Now go to bed, my dear. It is late and there is much to do in the morning."

"Of course, Madame," she said, getting up and moving towards the door, "oh, may I attend a party with Raoul in a week?"

"I do not see why not," Antoinette replied, "go if you want to."

"Merci, Madame, and good night."

She slipped from the parlour and then to her room, moving as quietly as she could to keep from waking Meg. She was just opening the door when she heard Meg's door creak open and saw her friend poking her head out and smiling at her.

"How was it?" she asked, creeping into the hall and talking quietly.

"Fine, I went for supper with the Armands and Raoul," Christine shrugged.

"So you made it on time?" Meg persisted.

"Yeah, and the rain even stopped."

"That's good. Well, maman will be angry if we stay up and talk, so I guess I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well, Christine."

"You too, Meg. Good night."

"Night!"

* * *

Erik sighed as he paced the streets of Paris. He didn't want to return home, that would only result in a string of questions from his nosey maid. The woman could annoy him to no ends most days, and today he did not feel like dealing with it. He couldn't deal with it.

So he wandered the streets, ignoring the rain that began to fall after in became dark. Rain had never bothered him; he actually found the sound of it falling on the roof, or on the leaves of trees to be soothing. Almost musical at times…that was another thing he did not want to face; music. Something that had once brought with it so much joy now brought nothing but a deep sadness or a burning pain.

A carriage clopped past him and he kept walking. With no where to go and no idea what he would do when he got there. He simply enjoyed the exercise, the ability to stretch his legs and walk off all the frustrations. It never really seemed to work though, and that night was no different. All he succeeded in doing was returning to his house at an ungodly hour and slightly damp.

The maid bustled into the house at her usual hour of seven o'clock. Erik tried to ignore her noisy preparations for the day and cling to the last fragments of sleep that fogged his mind. It didn't work and he found himself fighting against wakefulness with his eyes shut. He finally gave up when she dropped a pan in the kitchen.

"You need to learn to be quieter," he hissed, stalking into the kitchen and snatching the pan away from her, "some people are still asleep at this hour."

"Oh you're up!" she exclaimed, "Well then, I guess I was a bit too loud for you. So sorry, but I have my work to do. You hired me to cook and clean and so here I am…God, you look terrible!

"Thank you for that, Madame," he spat, "I think I am aware of my appearance."

"No need to be so touchy. Did your trip go well?"

"Why do you talk so much?" he growled turning on his heel and leaving the kitchen, "I do not pay you to talk!"

"You keep reminding me of that," she said, "what time will you be back?"

"With any luck, never!" he shouted from the door before storming out and into the streets.

After wandering aimlessly around Paris for a few hours Erik started to think that finding a job would in fact be a good idea. After all he knew that he could not remain stagnant for long. His mind needed something to do even if he didn't want to do it. If he didn't find something he would end up lying awake for hours, unable to sleep even when he was tired, his mind racing in the darkness. For a moment he considered Charles' offer, but quickly dismissed the thought as foolish.

He wandered past a family, the parents keeping their eyes on the three children that ran around them. He smiled slightly as he watched them and listened to the worrying of their mother. The man noticed him looking and frowned slightly. Erik returned it with a glare and pushed on, not caring where he was headed. He ended up outside the _Théâtre des Variétés_. With a sigh he went over to a small café nearby and ordered a coffee. His feet hurt anyways.

* * *

Antoinette sighed as she picked up a pair of shoes left in the change room. The younger girls seemed to have a habit of doing that. She didn't mind though, she enjoyed teaching such young and enthusiastic students. Back at the Opera Populaire she had been used to the older performers, many of whom had lost their enthusiasm.

"Charlotte, do not forget these," she said, handing the shoes to the young red-head.

"Oh! Thank you, Madame Giry," she squeaked, grabbing them and hurrying off after her friends.

Antoinette gave a small laugh; they were so young and so full of talent, just like her girls. She was so happy that they had all found jobs in the theatre again and that Christine and Meg were able to perform again. They both seemed excited by the prospect of being on stage again and seeing them preparing for the show made her miss her old job. Teaching young students was all well and good, and she did enjoy it, but she also missed being a part of the performances.

"Maman," Meg said, rushing by, "Christine and I are heading home now, are you coming soon?"

"I will be home for supper," she said, "please set the table."

"Maman, that's why we have the maid," Meg sighed.

"Set the table, she does enough in cleaning, laundry and cooking," Antoinette scolded, "hurry, you will miss the omnibus."

"Alright, see you in a while then!"

The girls left and Antoinette went back to the change room to finish cleaning up. There was another shoe and a ripped practice skirt; someone had also left a hair ribbon lying on the bench. She dutifully picked up all the items and placed them on the corner of the bench before leaving the room.

She left the theatre after a few minutes of ensuring everything was in order, then she went out onto the streets of Paris and started the long walk home. Hoping that she could find a cab on the way. She only made it to the small café when she spotted him exciting the building. A dark form among the other people milling in the streets. She paused or a moment, debating whether to call out to him.

"Erik!" she called, causing a frown to crease his brow as he turned in her direction. She noted that he looked tired and pale.

"Madame Giry," he said, giving small nod as she approached, "it is good to see you again."

"You as well, I trust you have been in good health since I last saw you?"

"I am perfectly healthy," he replied, "and you, Madame?"

"I have been well."

"That is good…"

"I received a letter from Pierre recently," she said, attempting to break the awkward silence.

"Oh?"

"Yes, he told me that everyone is doing well. Colette has even met a man who has been helping on the farm."

"Good for her," Erik replied, shifting slightly, "they are well then?"

"Yes, though he says Fleur misses you."

"I cannot see why," he murmured.

"You hurt your hand?" she asked, motioning at it, "how did you manage that?"

"Working…well, I hope you have a good evening, Madame."

"You as well, Erik…you have more work then?"

"No, it was a small job that is finished now."

"Wh-where are you living?"

"Does that really matter, Madame?" he asked.

"I would just like to know," she said, "as a friend."

"I will send you a letter some time," he said, walking away slowly, "have a good night, Madame Giry; I hope you are enjoying your work in the theatre."

She watched him disappear into the crowd and gave a small sigh; it was amazing how awkward a conversation could be between two people. Even if they were friends, or had once been friends. It was strange, but talking to him had been easier when he had been in the walls or hidden in the shadows. It was as if the daylight made him shy and uncomfortable while the darkness had given him strength and comfort. She could only hope that someday he would find that same comfort in the light. It would be such a shame if he couldn't.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up...and sorry it isn't that long, but school has been terribly hectic with essays to write and the like. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, despite its lack of excitement, and will leave me a review. Please do, I love to get them.**


	27. XXVII

**XXVII**

Antoinette hadn't actually expected to receive a letter from her elusive friend, so when she found the envelope resting on the small table by the door she was shocked. Very quickly she snatched it up, recognizing the attempt at neat writing on the front. She couldn't help but smile at it; Erik really needed to work to get his writing anywhere near legible. She often thought that was why she read the letters at the theatre, because she was one of the few who could decipher the scribbles.

"Hello, maman!" Meg called cheerfully, "Christine and I were just about to have some tea, would you like some?"

"Yes, dear," she replied, tearing open the envelope and pulling out the letter.

Dear Antoinette

A letter, just as I promised.

Erik

She gave a small shake of her head and sighed, turning the envelope over again to read the address scribbled in the upper left corner. She could almost picture Erik sitting at a desk attempting to write a letter with nothing to say.

"Madame?" Christine asked, poking her head into the hall, "would you like honey in your tea?"

"Yes, my dear, merci," she said, quickly putting the letter back in the envelope, "there is also some shortbread in the kitchen, if you want.

"Alright…who was the letter from?"

"Just an old friend," Antoinette replied, giving her a small smile and following her into the parlour, "how did rehearsal go today? I missed you and Meg at class."

"Sorry," Christine replied sheepishly, "Meg and I were just really busy."

"It is fine; the girls just wondered where you had gone. I told them you were preparing for the performance and that you would return soon."

"Christine, could you help me with the tray?" Meg called.

"Go," Antoinette said.

Once Christine was out of the room she took the envelope and slid it between two books on the shelf. She knew that Christine was not normally the curious type, that was more Meg's area. She knew that there were many times that she had been coerced into going out at night because of her daughter. Still, she didn't want Christine to find the letter, even if she didn't know Erik's real name.

"Maman, did you find the letter by the door?" Meg asked, placing a teetering tray on the coffee table.

"I did," she replied, "May I ask when it arrived?"

"I don't know, the maid told me about it," Meg said, "earlier today, I guess…who was it from?"

"An old friend," Antoinette shrugged, "Christine, I though I saw Raoul at the theatre today, how is he?"

"Fine, he was just stopping by to say hello."

"So it was not about the party you are going to?" Antoinette asked, raising her eyebrows at her.

"A little," Christine admitted, "it's in two days, Madame, and he just wanted to make sure I could still go…I told him I could."

"That is fine; I told you that you could go if you wanted. Do you have something to wear?"

"Yes, Raoul bought me a new dress…I was just going to wear the same dress as last time, but he insisted."

"He is a kind hearted man," Antoinette said, "now drink your tea, you two should get a good night's sleep, you will be plenty busy over the next two days, non?"

Christine gave a small smile and sipped her tea, "I guess we will."

* * *

Erik same a small sigh as he stood on the porch of the grand house. He wasn't entirely sure why he had gone to the party. Was it that he secretly valued the strange friendship he had with the Armands? Or was it, perhaps, the fourteen or so letters that Charles had managed to get to him in the short span of a week? He was personally leaning towards the latter, not wanting to admit to any ties with others. 

Another couple passed him standing on the porch, casting a curious gaze toward the man dressed in black from head to toe, but quickly moving into the house to join in the festivities. Erik wasn't sure if he was ready to enter yet. It was as if standing on the porch was standing on the precipice between the earth and hell, and he was not sure he wanted to cross the threshold into the fire yet.

Another person passed by, giving him the same curious look. He returned it with a scowl and stepped out of the shadows and towards the door, bracing himself for what he was getting himself into.

The light of the hall blinded him slightly, but beyond that nothing terrible happened when he entered. He ignored the offer from the doorman to take his gloves; he preferred to keep them on. The well maintained leather provided a sort of shield against human contact. However upon entering the ballroom he felt his stomach clench in anticipation and immediately found himself looking for a familiar face or a way out. He noted that the glass doors behind the drink table led out to the garden. If all else failed he could escape through there, and then, if the wall was not too high-"

"Sabina!"

"Armand," he said, the name coming out as more of a groan than anything else.

"So you did come. You dog, leaving us to wonder. Did you receive my-"

"All of them," Erik cut him off, "every last one."

"Well, you're such a stubborn man; I figured I would need to be persistent," Charles laughed nervously, "so, ahem, Danielle is around here somewhere."

"Is she really?"

"Yes, and she wanted to see you. So why don't we go find her, hmm? I'm sure she'll be delighted that you chose to come."

"I cannot see why."

Charles gave another nervous laugh and stared to lead the way through the crowd, Erik followed behind him, allowing the other man to part the crowd for him, something he preferred not to do.

It didn't take long to find Danielle; she was chatting with a young blonde woman, but excused herself upon seeing them.

"Charles, he came," she said, giving him a quick kiss, "I'm so glad."

"Yes, well I told you that being persistent could help, didn't I?" he said cheerfully.

Erik managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes, but just barely. Instead he managed to put on an icy smile, "Good evening, Madame Armand, how are you this evening?"

She gave a small laugh and went over to him, placing a hand on arms and kissing both of his cheeks. Erik tried his hardest not to pull away and managed it with a degree of difficulty.

"Why so formal, Monsieur Sabina?" she asked, "I'm glad you decided to come, how is your hand?"

Erik blinked in confusion but managed to clear his throat and flex his hand, "Umm, fine, thank you…"

"You're blushing, Monsieur," she teased.

Erik wasn't sure how to respond and settled for a small sigh and averting his gaze. He wasn't sure that he'd ever get used to physical contact, especially something so intimate.

"I think you caught him off guard, my dear," Charles said, "I don't think I've ever seen him blush before."

Danielle gave a small laugh, "Well there is a first thing for everything, isn't there? You look very handsome tonight, Monsieur Sabina."

"Thank you, Madame…" Erik murmured, trailing off as he tried to figure out the reason she was being so cheerful. It seemed rather unnatural to him, though he was not used to moments of elation. Maybe it was completely normal for someone to be so happy.

"Well, I know that there are a few people here interested in your work, Sabina," Charles said, "would you care to meet a few of them? Danielle, I trust that you will be able to find someone to talk with."

"Yes," Danielle said, "I'll see you later then, Charles, Monsieur."

Erik gave a small nod and followed Erik off in the direction of several men standing by the drink table. Erik immediately decided that it was a mistake. The last thing he wanted was to talk with a number of rich, uninformed men.

* * *

**A/N: (dramatic music) Look, an update! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I'm going to try to get another one up this weekend, but it may not happen. Anyways please leave a review, as I love to get them and they motivate me to write just a little faster...umm that is all. Review!**


	28. XXVIII

XXVIII

Christine smiled as the carriage rattled to a stop in front of the estate, and Raoul helped her out of the carriage. Raoul had purchased a beautiful dress for her. It was pale gold, almost white in colour with a beautiful white bodice, adorned with little pearl-like beads. She loved it, and was actually happy to be attending the party with Raoul.

"You look beautiful," he said as they entered the house, "I'm glad you could come. I don't think I would have been able to handle an entire evening with just my parents."

"That's right," Christine murmured, spirits dropping slightly, "they're here, aren't they?"

"Yes," Raoul replied a bit darkly, "they are…but we don't have to talk with them. There are enough people here to keep them sufficiently occupied."

Christine smiled as they entered the ballroom, it seemed a bit mean, but she really didn't want to have to face his mother again. She didn't like the woman very much, and she knew that she definitely didn't like her. She often wondered how she would get along with her, if she were to marry Raoul. She figured it would be a life full of awkward family dinners, just like the few she had already been to with Raoul.

"Charles has outdone himself again," Raoul commented, "but then again he was always a bit extravagant. I have a feeling that England must have thought him quite strange."

"Where is he?" Christine asked, looking through the crowd.

"Probably mingling," Raoul shrugged, "Danielle is most likely off with some of the other women, if you wish to find her. I know that you two get along quite well."

"Oh, no that's fine," Christine murmured, a bit nervous at the thought of having to find anyone in the large crowd.

"Most likely mingling with his guests," Raoul shrugged, "I think I see Danielle over there, if you want to see her. She's talking with Charlotte, the sister of James DuPont."

"Oh…umm, I see," Christine said, spotting her.

"Why don't you go and talk with them?" Raoul suggested, "I'd actually like to see James again."

"Alright," Christine said, giving a weak smile.

"We'll dance afterwards, I promise," Raoul said, "besides, I'm sure Danielle would love to see you again. You two get along so well."

* * *

Erik managed to get through introduction and a rather large amount of idle prattle before getting restless. The other men seemed to want nothing more than to discuss politics or their own private lives. He now knew that two of them were exasperated with their children, one of them wished to attain a mistress and another one was still trying to find an appropriate woman to marry. He could actually feel the headache forming in his temple. 

"So, this is the architect that young Charles has spoken so highly of," an older man said, jolting Erik back to the conversation. He became slightly unnerved when he saw the older man staring at him.

He looked vaguely familiar, though he could not place him. Larger with thinning grey hair, a moustache and grey eyes. He wondered if he had perhaps seen him at the theatre once, though that really didn't make any sense. He mulled over it until Charles introduced them in his usual cheerful manner.

"Yes, this is Monsieur Sabina," he said, "the man who helped to fix this place up. He's quite good, once you get passed his stoic attitude. Sabina, I would like you to meet the Comte de Chagny."

"Albert," the man said, offering a hand.

Erik felt as if he had been punched in the stomach, though he managed to maintain his composure. Of course, that was why he looked familiar; he was Raoul's father, though he decided that the boy must have looked more like his mother. He managed to shake his hand and give a stiff little bow.

"Well, Charles here has told me that you are the best," he continued from his previous train of thought, "and you are the one who helped to find my new piece of land in Rouen, are you not?"

"I am," Erik replied.

"Well then I have to thank you. I hope that the trip was no trouble to you."

"It was not."

"Good, I was worried that you'd be dragged away from some project. I know how bothersome young Monsieur Armand can be."

"He is a constant thorn in my side," Erik agreed, "he put me through hell to get me here."

"It was hardly hell," Charles laughed, "come now, you're enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

"Immensely," he replied sarcastically.

"Ah, didn't want to come, eh?" the Comte asked.

"Not at all," Erik griped, "tell me, is your son here?"

"Raoul? Yes, I believe he is around here somewhere."

"Splendid," Erik sighed, "just my luck."

The Comte frowned slightly at those words, but brushed them aside, "Well, I should actually be finding my wife. I suspect she is off gossiping somewhere and I should stop her. Have a good time, young man. Enjoy yourself a little."

Erik bit his tongue to keep himself from replying with a smart remark. Truthfully he believed that slitting his wrists could prove to be more amusing than this, but that was a thought best kept to one's self.

"Oh," the Comte said, turning back around, "I was curious as to whether you were employed at the moment."

"And if I weren't."

"Well, Charles suggested you as the architect for my new estate. However if you are too busy then I already know a good architect that would love the job."

"Then I suggest you give it to him," Erik said, "I have no interest in travelling so far for a project at the moment. I'm afraid I have been a bit under the weather as of late and would not feel up to the task."

"Well that is a shame," he sighed, "very well then, have a pleasant evening."

"You are not ill," Charles hissed once the other man was gone.

"How do you know that?" Erik asked, feigning ignorance, "perhaps I am deathly ill."

"Why didn't you want to take the job? I know that you are unemployed, you told me that yourself. It would have paid very well."

"Yes, it would have," Erik agreed, "however the architect that he is going to use now most likely has a family to support. I do not, so, wouldn't it make more sense for him to get the commission as opposed to someone with no use for the money?"

"You mystify me, Sabina," Charles sighed.

"Also, I do not think I would survive building so close to your dear brother's home," Erik said, smirking slightly.

"No, I don't suppose you could," Charles laughed, "say, would you care to meet a friend of mine? He is a wonderful man, and I believe he is looking for someone to design a house in the city. Would that interest you?"

"If I tell you no, will you leave me alone?"

"No."

"Then I might as well meet this friend of yours. Though I cannot promise anything."

"Fair enough."

* * *

Christine was glad to be able to talk with Danielle; she found that the young woman was a cheerful person. She was always a pleasure to talk with, and never seemed to look down on her at all. 

"I'm glad you could come," Danielle said, "I was wondering since you have work."

"It wasn't any trouble," Christine said, "I mean; rehearsals and such are during the day. We're done by six o'clock most days."

"That's a long time," Danielle said, "How do you manage it?"

"I've been dancing all my life," Christine shrugged, "I guess I'm just used to it. Besides we get breaks, and Meg and I also help teach the little ones. So we aren't doing strenuous work all day."

"I remember, when I was little, I always wanted to dance," Danielle laughed, "but my mother wouldn't allow it, of course. I remember loving to go to the theatre to watch the operas and the ballets. I always thought they were so amazing and I thought they used magic to do everything."

Christine laughed, "I used to think the same thing. Meg and I would spend hours trying to understand it all when we were little. Then we eventually learned about all the pulleys and trapdoors…it kind of took away some of the magic of the theatre."

"Do you like working in the theatre?" Danielle asked.

"I do," Christine said softly, "it can be a bit difficult at times, but I don't really mind. Even with all the drama that surrounds it, it's a lot of fun and I think I'd miss it terribly if I ever had to leave."

"Then it's nice that you can still work there."

"Gossiping away?" Raoul asked, smiling warmly at Danielle, "it is good to see you again, Madame Armand."

"You as well," Danielle smiled, "have you seen my husband? I'm afraid he's wandered off again."

"No I haven't, though my father mentioned seeing him. Would you mind if I stole Christine for a moment. I promised her a dance."

"Not at all," Danielle said, "I think I will go find my husband."

Christine smiled and followed Raoul onto the dance floor. She enjoyed dancing, on and off stage. It always made her feel as if there wasn't a care in the world, something that seemed a bit foolish to her at times.

"Did you enjoy talking with Danielle?" Raoul asked.

"I did. Did you enjoy speaking with your friend?"

"Yes, though I'll admit that this is more fun."

Christine smiled and allowed him to spin her, "Oh?"

"Yes, I was afraid that someone else would ask you to dance while I was away. After all, who would not want to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room?"

Christine blushed slightly and smiled, "Well if you hadn't returned I would've had to agree to it."

He wrinkled his nose at that and kissed her forehead, "That would make me terribly jealous."

* * *

Erik held the crystal champagne glass gently between his fingers. He had managed to escape Charles for a moment, though he knew it would not last long. The young man was already pushing through the crowd towards him. Charles snatched up a glass as well, turning and watching the crowd with Erik. 

"Have you found anything interesting?" Charles asked, trying to follow Erik's gaze.

"Nothing at all," Erik replied, swallowing the contents of his glass.

"Hmm, I was trying to find my wife, but it seems she is talking with a group of friends."

"What a shame," Erik replied, watching the dancers gliding across the floor.

"Look, there's Raoul," Charles commented, motioning in the direction of Raoul and Christine.

Erik made a sound in the back of his throat and watched as the two danced together, laughing and smiling as they did so. He immediately noticed the dress Christine was wearing; it was absolutely stunning, bringing out her natural beauty. She looked like and angel as she glided gracefully across the floor.

A moment later Raoul stole a kiss from her and Erik felt his fist close on the delicate crystal, crushing it and sending little splinters into his gloves. He gave a small grunt when Charles gave him a questioning look and brushing the splinters off his hand.

"Are you alright?" Charles asked.

Erik gave a harsh laugh, "Fine…did you know that some believe that you can use crystal to gaze into someone's soul? You must hold it just right, though."

"I've never heard that," Charles said.

"Tell me, Armand, what do you think my soul would look like?"

"I do not know," Charles replied uncertainly.

"No, I don't suppose you would," Erik shrugged, "well, perhaps you should say hello to your friends. I am perfectly capable of standing her by myself."

"Very well, but you should try to have a little fun. Why don't you ask someone to dance?"

"I am not interested in dancing."

"You should try it," Charles insisted, "I'm sure there is someone here who you would like to dance with."

"No, there is not," Erik replied.

"Come now, you cannot tell me that-"

"I can tell you whatever I want," Erik said, "whether you believe me or not is up to you."

"You are a truly dull man, Sabina," Charles said, "Raoul, good to see you!"

Erik gave a small groan and quickly tried to find the quickest way to escape as Raoul and Christine approached them. He had a feeling that the boy had not noticed him, though when he got nearer he could see him hesitate and say something to Christine. She shook her head in response.

"It is good to see you again, Mademoiselle Daae," Charles said, "I was just telling Sabina that he should ask someone to dance."

"Good evening," she said, shifting a faltering smile over to Erik, "Monsieur, I hope that you are well."

He gave a small nod and kissed her hand when she offered it, "Indeed. You as well, Mademoiselle."

"I hope that you are enjoying your evening," Charles said, "I'm glad you could both come."

"Well, I could hardly refuse," Raoul said, "with my parents coming and all. Have you seen them yet?"

"Your father," Charles informed him, "he met Sabina as well."

"How nice," Raoul murmured, "tell me, how is Danielle? I haven't spoken with her yet."

"She is well," Charles said, "quite pleased that everyone could attend."

"Everything looks wonderful," Christine commented, "just like last time."

"Merci, you look quite lovely as well," Charles said, "divine, one might say. Don't you agree, Sabina?"

"Yes, you look beautiful tonight, Miss Daae," he said stiffly.

"Th-thank you," she said.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Danielle came over, smiling brightly upon seeing them, "Monsieur Sabina, have you danced with anyone yet?"

"No I have not," he replied irritable. He couldn't understand why everyone wondered that.

"What a shame, you should ask someone."

"No, I should not," he sighed.

"You're just shy," Charles teased, "come now, I will not leave you alone until you ask someone and you know that."

"You are insufferable," Erik muttered, I do not know anyone.

"Then think of it as an opportunity to meet someone," Charles said.

"I do not want to meet someone."

"One person, is that too much to ask?"

"Yes."

"Really, Monsieur Sabina, you are too shy. Not even one dance?" Danielle asked.

"Maybe," Christine murmured, "if you'd like…I mean, I would dance with you."

She waited in anticipation for his answer, and could see his jaw working as he thought it out, taking just a bit too long to decide. Charles gave him a curious look and he cleared his throat.

"I do not think that would be wise, Miss Daae," he finally said, "after all, you are here with young Monsieur de Chagny, and I do not think he would appreciate it."

Christine felt her heart drop and offered a weak smile. She had hoped he would accept, though she hadn't really expected it. Still, it hurt to have him refuse, though she knew Raoul would not approve of it.

"Raoul wouldn't mind," Charles argued, "why don't you dance with Miss Daae, Sabina?"

Christine gave a small smile when he sighed and reached out to take his hand. She felt him withdraw at her touch, but simply reached forward and grasped his fingers lightly, tugging him in the direction of the dance floor. He gave a little more resistance before hesitantly following her.

"You should not be dancing with me," he rumbled, awkwardly adopting the proper stance.

"Why not?" she asked.

"I am a terrible person," he replied, "and you are here with the boy. You should not attend a party with one man and then dance with another."

"It's done often," Christine argued, "and besides, it is my choice as to who I dance with."

"I see that you are still missing an engagement ring," he commented, "has he not proposed _yet_?"

"No, he has been very busy," Christine said.

Erik snorted quietly and spun her out, jerking her back towards him when she reached the end of his arm, "Whatever could have him so busy?"

"His parents…" Christine trailed off and swallowed, "he has a lot of things to do."

She didn't want to tell him the truth, that his parents didn't approve and that she herself wasn't so sure as to whether it was what she wanted. For some reason it felt so right to dance with Erik, despite his guarded attitude and harsh words. She knew why he was acting that way. He only wanted to protect himself and figured that if he locked his heart away then he couldn't be hurt again.

"Maybe," she said, adjusting herself so that she was closer to him, "we should talk sometime…"

"About what?" he hissed.

"Everything," she replied quietly, "what happened…what didn't happen."

"You left, that is all there is to say," Erik said harshly.

"I know," she breathed, "but-but maybe…"

"What?" he asked bitterly, "maybe you would have stayed? Do not start with me, Christine. You would not have stayed if it weren't for your precious vicomte. You would have stayed, Christine, but only to save his life."

"That isn't true!" she exclaimed, more loudly than she had wanted, "I would have stayed for you, Erik…you shouldn't have been left alone…I'm so-"

"Stop," he said in an even, icy tone, "do not it, Christine. You are doing it again, you are toying with the hearts of two men, and I will not be a part of it. I have been scorned once, Christine, and it will not happen again. Go and dance with your vicomte now, I am finished!"

With that he released her and swept from the dance floor, leaving her to stare after him. For a moment she just stood there, watching as he brushed past the Armands and Raoul before disappearing out the glass doors and into the garden beyond. Only then did she follow him, weaving her way through the other couples and ignoring Raoul as she hurried past him and into the garden.

"Christine!" he called, trying to grab her hand as she swept past and into the night.

The garden was dark, only a small amount of light filtered out from within the ballroom and it took her eyes a moment to adjust. Even then it was hard to spot the dark figure by the fountain, trailing his hand through the spray. He was like a ghost, blending perfectly with the darkness that surrounded him.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, glancing up from the water.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm sorry for hurting you, for everything…I didn't mean for it to happen that way…no one did. It was all supposed to go differently."

"Just as your precious vicomte planned?" Erik asked bitterly, "ah, you thought I didn't know? As if the gendarmes guarding every exit was not a dead giveaway. I'm afraid he forgot one thing though, Christine. I never used the doors."

"I didn't want to be a part of it," she said hurriedly, "I-I was frightened…everything was coming down around me and I didn't know what to do. It was a mistake…a terrible mistake."

"A mistake that went horribly awry, no?"

"I wasn't supposed to…they were going to kill you! I thought-"

"I'd run?" he asked, giving a cruel, mirthless laugh, "I'm afraid you were mistaken, Mademoiselle. I was quite through with running at that point. Perhaps you should have just let them kill me; it would have spared many a great deal of pain."

"How can you say that?" she asked, feeling tears clog her throat and fill her eyes, "afterward…I felt so terrible, I was afraid you were dead!"

"Afraid?" he asked, giving a harsh laugh, "I have trouble believing that."

Christine closed her eyes and fought back the tears that threatened to spill from beneath her lashes. Then she gave a small sniff and looked up at him, wondering if he could see her properly in the darkness. She took a step towards him and let out a small sigh.

"I was so sad, to think that you were gone," she whispered, "I felt so guilty…you have no idea, Erik…Erik, how funny is it, that I knew you for so long but never knew your name?"

"You should return to the party, Christine," he said, bowing his head, "I'm sure they are missing you."

She nodded slightly but didn't move, she didn't want to leave the garden, "Maybe…but I want to know something first."

"What is it?"

"Do you…hate me?"

"No," he answered, "I do not hate you, Christine…I could never hate you."

She became aware of how close they were when he brushed a curl from her shoulder, the cold leather causing goose bumps to rise on her skin. She gave a small smile and looked up into his murky eyes. For once he didn't look away, but leaned in slightly. She noticed the slight part of his lips and wanted to kiss him, she wanted to taste his lips again. But then he closed his eyes and drew back.

"You should return to the party," he repeated, "they will be wondering where you went."

* * *

**A/N: Oh yeah, two chapters, one weekend! So review!**


	29. XXIX

XXIX

Raoul allowed a held breath to escape through his nose when he saw Christine turn back towards the door. It was strange to watch them together in the darkness. Erik was virtually invisible, only the slightest glare could be caught off the edge of the black mask, and even that was hard to spot. Christine, in comparison, was a creature of light. Her beautiful bright dress could be easily seen in the darkness.

He had watched as spoke to the darkness, though he could not hear what she said through the door. He had watched her move closer and closer, pleading with him for some unknown reason. It was like watching two ethereal creatures, one made of shadow and the other made of light. He watched as the shadow moved and brushed a lock of hair from the light's shoulder and then as she turned her face up towards him. Then the shadow drew back and she turned away, hesitating slightly.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently when she entered the hall again.

"I'm fine," she replied, smiling at him.

"Are you sure?" Raoul asked.

"Mmm hmm," she said, nodding her head and touching his arm, "really."

He spent a moment considering her before nodding his head and leading her over to the drink table. Charles and Danielle were still there, sipping a glass of champagne. He offered a small smile and motioned towards the glasses.

"No thank you," Christine said.

"Very well," he said, "though the punch is marvellous."

"Maybe later then," she said.

"Will Monsieur Sabina be coming back in anytime soon?" Danielle asked innocently.

"Or will he be escaping over the garden wall?" Charles added.

"I'm not exactly sure," Christine shrugged.

"I'd put my money on the wall," Charles said thoughtfully, "Though it is a bit high…anyways, Miss Daae, I do hope that Sabina didn't offend you with his manners. He's a good man, you know? When he decides to show it."

"I believe you," Christine replied.

"Did you have a nice talk with him? I assume that is what you were doing in the garden."

"Oh," she said, blushing, "y-yes, we just talked…"

"Well, that must have been a very one sided conversation,' Charles said kindly, attempting to lighten the mood a bit, "Sabina isn't known for his ability to hold a conversation."

Christine gave a small smile as Raoul placed his hand gently on her arm, "Would you care to dance?"

"Sure," she said, "I'd like that."

* * *

Erik sighed as he flipped the envelope over in his hand for what must have been the hundredth time. He had spent the greater part of an hour at the desk in the parlour, envelope in hand, mind wandering to the previous night. 

He hadn't left, as Charles seemed to have thought. Instead he had waited in the garden for a while. Taking the time to stop his heart from hammering and for himself to calm after his encounter with Christine. She had been so close, and it had greatly unsettled him.

"I'm a fool," he sighed, looking down at the envelope.

He knew that from a distance he could control himself. If he didn't go near her, if he didn't know where she worked or where she lived nothing could go wrong. A close encounter on the streets he could handle. But having her mere inches from his body, taking quietly to him about guilt and pain. It was unbearable; it sent his heart racing and clouded his already faulty judgement.

"Are you just going to sit there all day?" the maid asked, walking past with her shawl draped over her shoulders, "I'm leaving now, but you should get out of that chair and do something."

"Perhaps," he replied dully, still staring at the envelope, "have a good day, Madame."

"Oh, well thank you, Monsieur. I'll try…you too. Au revoir!"

Erik gave a small wave of his hand before sliding his finger under the back flap of the envelope. It popped open easily and he pulled out the contents. Two pieces of paper, the first containing the letter.

Dear Erik,

I hope you're doing well in the city, we haven't seen you in some time now. Did the business in Rouen go well? I hope it did and that you had a pleasant trip with few complications. We're doing quite well at the moment, though Fleur says that she misses you. Maybe you could come out sometime. It's nearing October now, which means that we'll be harvesting all the vegetables we've been growing throughout the year. We usually have a small celebration around this time, just a few people, nothing too big. If you'd care to come you're more than welcome. Fleur would absolutely love it. She sent you a picture along with the letter.

Hope to see you soon

Colette et Fleur

Erik gave a small sigh and looked at the second piece of paper. Sure enough there was a drawing on it, of her overly large cat and a flower. The corners of his lips tugged upwards at the drawing, and he placed it on the desk before returning to the letter. It was an invitation with no details, most likely to get him out for a longer period of time.

He figured that he should go; it would at least get him out of the city for a short while, something he was beginning to yearn for. He figured that going during the second week would most likely be an appropriate time. It also gave him almost four weeks before leaving. Time he could easily spend designing a few new houses.

He had decided, after the previous night of nobles and upperclassmen, that he would rather not spend his life designing for them, adding jut another possession that they could flaunt to their acquaintances. No, he wanted his works to mean something more than that to their owners. He wanted them to be truly appreciated, something he knew would be nearly impossible. So, instead, he had settled on designing regular houses for regular people. It wouldn't be too hard, being a contractor for the average person. He even considered opening his own business, as he knew that he would not be able to work under anyone.

"Once upon a time, I would have hated this idea," he sighed, grabbing his jacket and getting out of the chair. The maid was right; he shouldn't sit in the chair all day. So, instead, he would go out for a walk and perhaps find some inspiration.

* * *

Christine watched the flames dance in the fireplace. It was surprisingly cold in the house that evening, so Antoinette had insisted that they have a fire. Then she and Meg had left for a while, off visiting a cousin or an aunt. Christine hadn't really been paying attention as they had told her. Perhaps it was merely an old friend. 

Still, whoever they were visiting, Christine had opted to stay behind for the evening. She was tired from the night before and the brief rehearsal that morning. Besides, she had never felt comfortable with visiting people she did not know.

That left her alone in the house, with only the crackling of the fire and a cup of cocoa to keep her company. She gave a small sigh as she took a sip. It was very dull in the small house with no one else around, and despite the fact that she felt physically tired her mind seemed to be wide awake.

"Maybe…" she said, setting down the cocoa and going over to the bookshelf, "I could read something."

She scanned the different volumes, wondering why they owned half of them. There were a few romance novels, she recognized one that Meg had purchased for herself, and then there were the two or three dance related books. There were also a few novels, classics that were used to fill the shelf rather than for reading. They didn't have enough time to read anything so serious. But it was a thinner book that caught her eye, and she ran her finger down the brown spine curiously. _The Magic Flute_ was engraved into it with gold lettering.

Christine smiled faintly, remembering when the _Opera Populaire_ had performed that same opera. It had been along time ago, though, and she couldn't' remember very much of it.

Carefully she tugged the book out from the shelf. The book slid out easily, pulling with it an envelope, which fluttered to the floor. She frowned slightly and set the book down on the coffee table before going to pick up the letter.

The address was scrawled somewhat messily on the front, with another one written in the top corner of the envelope. It was addressed to Antoinette, and Christine remembered her strange behaviour about the letter just days earlier. She wondered who could have sent the letter to have put her into such a strange mood.

Biting her lip nervously she glanced towards the hallway, straining her ears to hear any sounds coming from the door or the street beyond. There was nothing. So, very slowly and carefully, she pried open the back flap of the envelope. Slipping it out from inside to reveal the letter within.

She knew that she shouldn't look, and blamed Meg silently for all her years or curiosity wearing off on her. After all, hadn't it been her friend who had dragged her down into the cellars to search for the ghost, or who dragged her out of the dormitories at night to explore the theatre in the dark? It was only natural that some of that adventurous quality would have worn off on her.

One more listen for the door and she tugged the letter out, unfolding it slowly until the message was revealed. She blinked in surprise at the shortness of it. It certainly didn't seem like there was any reason to hide it. Then her eyes trailed across the one line and down to the messy signature.

"A letter, just as I promised," she read softly, tears leaping to her eyes.

She had known. All those nights that she had spent crying, all those days that she had felt miserable and guilt ridden. All that time and she had known…no, maybe not. Maybe she had only learned recently. Perhaps she had met him again somewhere. He did live in Paris, after all. It was a possibility. Then she remembered the night of the fire, and how she had disappeared for so long. It made sense now. She hadn't been helping the dancers, she had been helping him. Even after what he had done she had helped him.

She shook her head to try and clear it. None of it made any sense. She wouldn't help him unless…unless she knew him. Knew him personally and had a close relationship with him.

"We're home!" Meg's voice broke through her reverie, causing her to whirl around and face them both, standing in the doorway of the parlour. She immediately saw Meg's eyes widen and some of the colour leave Antoinette's face.

"You knew?" she asked breathlessly, clutching the letter in her hand, "Madame…you knew he was alive?"

"My dear, where did you get that?" she asked, looking towards the bookcase.

"I found it," she replied, "I found it when I went to get a book. You knew?"

"I did," she replied calmly.

"How long?" Christine asked, tears blurring her vision.

"Since the night of the fire," Antoinette admitted.

Christine wiped angrily at her eyes and sniffed quietly, "Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, "I thought…I thought he was dead."

"Christine, I-"

"I thought he was dead!" she nearly shouted, "I though he was dead, and I thought it was my fault! Do you have any idea how miserable I was? All I wanted to do was cry for so long, and I couldn't because no one would understand, I cried myself to sleep almost every night and you knew…and before that, while we were at the theatre. You knew then too, didn't you?"

"I did," Antoinette said softly, averting her eyes, "I knew him for a very long time…long before you even came to the theatre."

"And you didn't stop him?" Christine asked, "Why?"

"For the same reason that you fled from him," Antoinette replied, "because I was afraid too, Christine. I was terrified of what he might do I tried, for many years to stop him, but it never worked."

"Why didn't you tell me that he had survived?" Christine asked angrily.

"I did not think it was wise," Antoinette said, "Christine, I did not mean for it to cause you so much pain."

Christine stifled a small sob and wiped at her eyes again, "I-I felt so guilty…"

"I'm sorry, Christine," meg said miserably, "I just thought…I thought that you'd hate him…I didn't think you'd want to know he had-"

"You knew too, Meg?" Christine asked, bewilderment filling her eyes, "You both knew?"

"Yes," Meg said, averting her gaze and shuffling her feet, "I-I went down there, with the mob, I mean and…well I found him outside, after following a tunnel out of the theatre. I couldn't' turn him in though…he just looked so, I dunno, sad…"

Christine couldn't decide whether she was angry at Meg for not telling her the truth, or because she had done what she did. After all, why wouldn't she turn him in after everything that transpired?

"I knew he hadn't hurt you," she said quietly, "I just knew, because of how he looked. After all, why would he be all alone there, if he had hurt you. And no one was left in his lair…"

"You should have told me," Christine said haughtily, "I had a right to know!"

"Christine, how do you know his name?" Antoinette asked.

"Because I've seen him since then," she replied harshly, "he happens to be good friends with the Armands. The same family that held the party at their new estate, and the same ones who had their party just last night."

"So you knew?" Meg asked.

"Yes, I knew," Christine spat.

Meg gave a small sigh, "I guess that doesn't make it better, does it?"

"No it doesn't, Meg," she said, "I thought-I thought you were my friend."

Meg looked up suddenly, eyes shining with tear, "Christine, you don't-"

"I'm going to bed," she interrupted, pushing her way past them and up the stairs.

* * *

"Mean that," Meg finished miserably, tears filling her eyes as her best friend slammed the door to her room. 

"She did not mean that," Antoinette told her gently, "she is just upset, and she has the right to be. You should go to bed as well, Meg. In the morning we will all feel better about this.

"I guess," Meg sniffed, "good night then, maman. I love you."

"I love you too, my dear," she replied, kissing the top of her head, "sleep well."

Meg gave a weak smile and climbed up to her own room, shutting the door quietly behind her as she entered. The room seemed very dark and unwelcoming all of a sudden, and she felt a heavy weight in her chest when she spotted the violin case resting in the corner.

Had they been wrong in not telling her about him? She hadn't thought so, but maybe Christine had been right; maybe she did have the right to know. After all, if all that had happened to her then she would have wanted to know. At least she thought that she would.

She changed into her nightgown and sat down in front of the mirror to braid her hair for the night. She hoped that Christine would feel better about it all in the morning; she didn't want her to be angry with her. They had never been angry with each other, at least not for any long period of time.

With a small sigh she went to turn off the light and spotted the violin again and went to pick it up. She hadn't done anything with it since the night of the fire. She had almost forgotten about it in reality. The only reason that she had taken it was to save it. It seemed a shame that any instrument would fall into the hands of the mob.

Even the case was high quality, or at least she assumed that it was. Black and smooth and heavy. Quietly she walked over to the door, violin in hand, and slipped into the hall and down to the next room. Tentatively she rapped her knuckles against the wood and reached down for the handle.

"Go away!" Christine called quietly, even as Meg turned the handle to enter.

"Christine?" she asked gently, "Christine, I'm sorry to have-"

"I said go away," she interrupted, "and I meant it, Meg. I want to be left alone."

"I guess that' fair," Meg murmured, "I just wanted to give you this. I-I got it from the lair, but forgot about it afterwards. I thought, that maybe you would like it."

Christine turned and looked at the case, her eye widening as she let out a small gasp, "Meg, is it-was it his?"

"I think so," Meg said, handing the case to her, "I found it in his home. I just didn't' want anyone else to ruin it…good night."

"Thank you, Meg," Christine whispered.

"You're welcome," she said, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

* * *

Antoinette shook her head and sat down in the armchair after the girls had left. She could see _The Magic Flute_ sitting out on the coffee table and smiled sadly. So, that's how she had found the letter. It didn't' matter now though, the damage had been done. 

She could understand her hurt, believing that someone you cared for was dead could be a painful thing. She remembered back when Gustave had died, how Christine had mourned silently for a while, not opening up to anyone and ignoring the other girls in the dormitory.

She supposed that was what she had been doing after the fire. Keeping all of her emotions bottled up, not wanting anyone to know how she felt. Antoinette could relate. After the death of her husband she had done the same thing. She had acted strong for her daughter and for herself. Having to keep moving forward because if she didn't she would have nothing to do. She worked for herself and for her daughter, simply shrugging it off when people asked her if she was okay, when all she really wanted to do was cry.

"I'm so sorry, my dear," she sighed, picking up the book and returning it to the shelf, "Maybe I should have told you from the beginning."

She heard a door open above and quiet footfalls. She gave a faint smile, figuring that Meg must be making an attempt to repair the damage. She knew that any strain on their friendship would hurt her daughter. They had been friends for so long. It was actually strange when she thought about it. Despite all their differences they had remained friends for all those years, becoming nearly sisters, while she had never kept any of her friends from the theatre. They had all eventually moved on to start new lives of their own, while she had remained behind to live out hers.

Oh well, it didn't really matter, she knew that the two girls would not stay angry forever. Neither Christine nor Meg were mean spirited, so she decided not to dwell on it and go to bed. If she was right most of it would blow over by morning.

* * *

**A/N: ...REVIEW!**


	30. XXX

XXX

Raoul sighed heavily as he stepped into the parlour, finding his mother having afternoon tea. She offered him a brittle smile and motioned for him to sit down. He did just that, deciding to take the opportunity that he had been looking for for so long.

"Good afternoon, mother," he said, taking the offered tea and setting it on the table.

"What has you joining me for tea this afternoon, my dear?" she asked, "I would have thought that you would be busy."

"I was taking a break," he said, "listen, mother, there has been something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"It's about Christine," he said, "mother, you promised me that you would have a ring ready for me upon returning from Rouen-"

"Yes, I apologize for that. I had forgotten that I was going to visit friends for a time. Surely you can understand that?"

"I can," Raoul said, "but it has been nearly two weeks since then and you still haven't selected one that I might use. I mean to marry her, mother. I love her with all my heart and if you don't choose one then I will buy one myself."

His mother pursed her lips and set her teacup on its saucer with a light clink, "But does she love you, my dear?"

"What?" Raoul asked, thrown off by the question, "what do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. Does she love you, son? Tell me truthfully, do you believe that that little dancer loves you with all her heart, and that she truly wishes to be married to you?"

He immediately wanted to shout _yes! Yes of course she does, we are in love! _But something stopped him. There was a small voice in the back of his head that hissed _Does she? _After all, she still avoided talk of marriage, though she would smile prettily and nod her head when he spoke of it. And then there was _him. _Just the thought of the masked man made his stomach clench.

Even through his reign of terror in the theatre, even through her own fears she defended him. She had pleaded with him not to kill the man in the graveyard. She had fled in tears when his plan was revealed. And though she often spoke of him with fear, there was also sadness in her voice, as if there was something inside her from truly hating him…Then there was _Don Juan_.

He had been there for all the rehearsals, watching her force herself to act through the opera, scene by scene, trying her hardest to pour some unknown emotion into her character. But she didn't do that with Erik. No, there had been no acting that night. There had been passion, pure and unbridled passion that lit up the stage and crushed his heart.

An image of the kiss flashed through his mind, and he averted his gaze o the teacup, staring at the amber liquid steaming inside. Was it him who she loved, or was it Erik, the phantom, the angel…it would make sense that she would love him, even though it hurt for Raoul to admit it.

"Well?" his mother asked.

It was strange; months ago the question would have been so easy to answer. Months ago they had been engaged and happy, and now…

"Yes," he replied softly, "yes she does."

"Hmm, strange, at the party she did not seem very at tentative. It seemed to me as if she would rather go off with that dark fellow," she said crisply, sipping her tea.

Raoul didn't have a response to that, after all it was true. At the party she had been more concerned with Erik than him. In fact she had been quite eager to dance with him.

"She…just knows him from somewhere," Raoul murmured, placing his cup back on the table, "thank you for the tea, mother."

"You are welcome, and if you still wish for that ring, then I will have one chosen for you by tomorrow."

"Thank you," he said, "I'd like that."

* * *

Christine rushed into the dressing room along with Meg, they only had ten minutes to change and put their make-up on before they needed to be on stage. Meg couldn't stop smiling, even while she tied the ribbons of her shoes.

"Excited?" Christine asked, quickly applying paint to her lips.

"Yeah," Meg said, quickly applying her own make-up.

Christine finished with her make-up and quickly re-checked her shoes before they both rushed out of the room and to where the other dancers were lining up. The orchestra was tuning in the pit and the manager of the theatre was rushing about, checking and double checking that everything was ready.

"Good luck tonight, girls," Antoinette said, "you will do well, I know it."

"Maman!" Meg gasped jokingly, "you know its bad luck to wish someone good luck."

Antoinette rolled her eyes and left the area, hurrying off through the crowd to find a position where she would not be in the way.

"Is Raoul here?" Meg hissed as the ballet mistress shouted for them to get in their lines.

"I think so," Christine whispered hurriedly, "he said he would be."

* * *

Erik pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead, staring at the paper beneath him. The lines blurred slightly and he rubbed at his left eye, blinking a few times to try and refocus them. It wasn't very effective; he had been staring at the designs for too long.

With a heavy sigh he looked up and turned to stare out the window and into the black streets. It was late and he was tired, he had been working on the designs all day. It turned out that being commissioned to design five separate houses was not an easy task, though he had no intentions to oversee all of their constructions with the same watchfulness as Charles' estate. They were simple enough designs anyways, a fool could understand them.

He stood up slowly, hearing his knees cracking as he did so, and stretched. He had sent a short letter to Colette the day before, detailing when he planned to visit them again and going so far as to thank Fleur for the drawing, which was now buried somewhere on his desk along with a mess of half finished designs and sketches of his own.

He glanced back at his designs one more time before shaking his head and moving towards the bedroom. They would still be there in the morning, and two weeks was more than enough time to finish them.

Work did, however, prove to be a good excuse when dealing with Charles. The young man had wanted him to attend the theatre with him and his wife, something Erik knew that he was not up to. However, with the mention of work Charles had immediately excused him. Though there had been a remark about the simpleness of the houses he was designing.

He stifled another yawn and ran a hand through his hair before shuffling into the bedroom. Suddenly he was looking forward to spending some time on the farm with Colette and her daughter. The city seemed to be draining his energy as of late, or perhaps it was the chill that fall's chill had now entered the air. Either way, he was ready for a break.

* * *

**A/N: Well, this chapter was short, but that's okay because there will be a longer one next time...whever that is. Hopefully soon, but I'm going to be _very_ busy for the next week. Physics, writers craft, a bit of history, cross country running meet, parties and horse shows, all wrapped into one particularly murderous week. I swear it'll kill me! But who knows, perhaps an upate over the weekend. Anywho, drop me a review...and one for the last chapter. I need them to keep me happy as they are the only e-mails i ever seem to get.**


	31. Part Four

Part Four

XXXI

Erik patted his horse's neck as he removed the saddle and turned it loose in the field with the old grey horse. He gave a small snort and bucked playfully as he galloped around the field to stretch his legs. Erik then counted to three in his head and braced himself as two tiny arms wrapped around his legs.

"Erik!" Fleur squealed, "You're here, you're here!"

"I am," he said, teetering slightly as his balance began to fail.

"Maman's in the house making soup," she announced, letting go of his legs and grabbing his hand, "but you can come with me. I was gonna go look at the kitties in the barn."

"How nice," Erik sighed, following her.

"Uh-huh, they're real cute and they like to play with the dust," she explained, "but they're still real small, so they can't jump high and they trip on their feet."

"How sweet," Erik said, waiting as she pulled open the barn door.

"There's a black one and a grey one and a spotted one!"

"Fleur, I think that Erik might like to go inside and put his things away first," Colette said, appearing behind them and wiping her hands on her apron, "hello, Erik, did you have a pleasant trip?"

"Good afternoon," Erik replied, prying his hand away from Fleur's grasp.

"But I was gonna show him the kitties!" Fleur pouted.

"Maybe later," Colette said, "they're probably sleeping now. They like to take afternoon naps, remember?"

"Oh yeah…then do you wanna see the flowers I picker?" Fleur asked, grabbing his hand again, "I put them in the attic so you could look at them!"

"That was very kind of you," Erik said, allowing himself to be pulled towards the house.

"It's good to see you again," Colette said, walking beside him as Fleur chattered on.

"You as well," Erik said.

Colette gave a small smile and touched his arm gently. Erik tried his hardest not to flinch, but only half succeeded. Still, Colette smiled at him, "Have you been keeping busy?"

"Quite," he replied, "and you?"

Colette gave a small smile and blushed slightly, "Well, things have been well here."

"You're gonna have to meet Richard," Fleur announced, "He's real nice and comes by to help a lot. I like him a lot and so does maman!"

Colette gave a small laugh, "Richard is a very nice man and it was kind of him to offer to help here."

"Very kind indeed, Madame," Erik said, giving a small smirk.

"How long will you be staying?" Colette asked, quickly changing the subject.

Erik shrugged as they entered the house and Fleur tried to drag him up to the attic, "Until you want to get rid of me."

"We'd never want that!" Fleur exclaimed, "come on, I wanna show you my flowers!"

Erik sighed and allowed himself to be dragged up to the small attic room. It was relatively dust free, quite to his surprise, and there was a small vase of assorted flowers sitting on the desk, wilting in the lack of sunlight. Still, Fleur seemed quite proud of them and told him the story of how she picked them. She then went on to tell him about the new kittens in the barn, describing each and every one of them and their personalities.

"Richard is coming over tonight," she announced after a rant on the kittens.

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh, maman invited him for supper and he said yes. I like Richard, he's really nice to me, he gives me chocolates when he visits."

"Does he visit often?"

"Sometimes. He helps out with fixing stuff, but he works in the town. He used to live on a farm but now he's working for the man who makes saddles, cause he's getting old and can't do so much anymore. What do you do?"

"I design houses," Erik replied.

"Big houses?"

"Sometimes."

"Wow! Maman said you were and architecter."

"I am," Erik sighed, becoming tired of her childish intrusion, "that's what an architect does."

"Wow, that sounds important."

"Fleur," Colette said, appearing at the door, "come and get ready for supper. Erik has to get ready too."

* * *

Richard arrived for dinner and Erik observed him quietly. He was a bit older than Colette, with dark hair that was just beginning to grey and a tad overweight. He was a good inch or two shorter than Erik, with a friendly face slightly obscured by a rough beard and moustache. He immediately greeted Colette with a swift kiss and Fleur with a hug, hesitating when he arrived at Erik. 

"Richard," Colette smiled, "this is Erik, Erik, I've told you about Richard, right?"

"Yes, you have mentioned him," Erik said, offering the man a small smile, "it is good to meet you."

"Likewise," Richard agreed, flashing a small smile, "I'm afraid I haven't heard much about you, Monsieur."

"Well, I am not one that people normally talk about."

"Erik lived here for a while," Fleur announced, "cause he was sick and a friend of maman's asked us to look after him. He's an architecter and designs big houses! That's his horsy in the field, its mean but Erik likes him and he likes Erik."

"Ah, so that black monster belongs to you?" Richard chuckled.

"I hope he didn't cause you any trouble," Erik sighed, "he can be a bit…unruly at times."

"Yes, your personalities match," Colette agreed, "if you'll all sit down, supper is ready."

The meal was nice, if not a bit quiet. Richard was friendly and made conversation, though it didn't always go anywhere. Colette asked Erik more about his work and he answered reluctantly. Designing regular houses wasn't exactly a thrilling subject, though she seemed interested and Richard was curious about it as well.

Supper ended and they sat it the small living room with a fire burning in the hearth. Fleur made sure to fill the quiet then, telling Richard about Erik and Erik about Richard. Both men listened, nodding their heads as she spoke, though Erik wasn't really paying attention. It wasn't until eight o'clock that Colette stopped her.

"Fleur, its bedtime," she announced, "why don't you go and get ready? I'll tuck you in in a few minutes, alright?"

"Oh…fine," she sighed, shuffling out of the room, "night, Erik and Richard."

"Good night," Richard said, waving at her.

"Sleep well," Erik murmured.

Colette left and returned within fifteen minutes, "Well, she's in bed now. I'm sorry, she likes to talk."

"I know," Richard laughed, "she's such a sweet little girl, I don't mind."

"She certainly does," Erik muttered.

"Erik, may I ask you something?" Colette asked, motioning for him to follow her the short distance into the kitchen.

"Of course," he replied, following her, "what is it, Madame?"

"Well, Richard and I were going to…well, we were going to go out for a while tonight," she said, a blush creeping into her cheeks, "I told Fleur, but I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind staying here with her?"

Erik smirked, "Madame, do I have anywhere else to go?"

"I just know that you like to go out and walk at night," Colette said.

"I will remain here for the night," Erik answered, "have fun, Madame."

She blushed thoroughly when he said that, "Th-thank you, Erik."

He just gave a small chuckle and returned to the living room, sitting on the chair. Colette followed him in and sat down beside Richard on the sofa. He smiled at her and cleared his throat. It was obvious that he had not expected Erik to there that night.

"Well," Erik finally announced, "I think I'll be off to bed, it was a long day. Good night, Madame, I will see you in the morning. Richard, I hope to see you again sometime, it was nice to meet you. Have a pleasant night, both of you."

* * *

He went up to his room and lied down, enjoying in the darkness and the silence. He heard Colette and Richard leave and the whisper of the wind outside the window. It was so peaceful there, unlike the city. It made him wonder why he had been so eager to leave; perhaps life in the country wasn't such a bad thing. It would certainly be more relaxing. _Perhaps I will build a house in the country_ he thought. 

"Erik?"

"Hmm?" he sighed, wondering if he had imagined the tiny voice.

"Erik…is you awake?" Fleur asked quietly.

"No," he sighed, sitting up and looking at her. She was hanging by the door, holding it open and peering into the room with her wide, blue eyes, "What's the matter?"

She slid into the room, closing the door a bit and hurrying over to the bed, "Nothing…"

Erik allowed her to climb up beside him and curl her tiny body up against him, "Something must be wrong."

"Are you afraid of the dark?" she asked quietly.

"No," Erik answered, "but it is fine if you are."

"Its scary at night," she murmured, wrapping her hands in the fabric of his shirt, "there are lotsa scary noises and you can't see anything…I had a scary dream."

"It was just a dream," Erik said, unsure of what to do, "nothing will hurt you at night; things just seem different and scary. Nothing is really different at all."

"I don't like the dark," she whimpered, "can I stay with you?"

Erik gave a small sigh, but found that he couldn't say no to the little girl, so he nodded his head, "Fine, you can stay with me if you want."

"Thank you," she said, snuggling up against his chest, "my papa used to sing to me at night…but I don't really remember it that well. He left a long time ago and I don't remember him much…all I remember is how he used to sing to me."

Erik gave a small smile; she really was a kind hearted little girl, even if she was nosy and bothersome. She always meant well with her little gifts and stories, "Do you miss him?"

"Not really," she murmured, "but I know maman misses him…both of them. She really loved them."

"Them?"

"Mmm hmm, my papa and my brother," she answered, "he was twelve when he left, I was only two. My papa left after that. They both left together, and it made maman sad."

Erik sighed heavily, he had never heard Colette speak of a son, and she always seemed so happy. He never would have imagined that she had suffered so much pain.

"Brother used to play the fiddle," Fleur continued, "that's what maman said, but I don't remember…what was that?"

"Just the wind," Erik answered as it whistled and rattled the window.

"Oh…it scared me," she gasped.

"You should go to sleep," Erik said, "its late."

"I know," she yawned, rubbing her eyes, "but I can't sleep…"

Erik sighed and sifted through his memories, trying to remember something that Antoinette had taught him years before, when he had first arrived at the theatre. He finally remembered it and began to sing softly, hoping that it would put the little girl to sleep.

"_Sleep my child and peace attend thee, all through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night. Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, Hill and dale in slumber sleeping. I my loved ones' watch am keeping, all through the night_…"he trailed off there, realising that she was asleep and lying back on the bed, tucking her in beside him.

He could feel the tears burning in his eyes and quietly wiped them away, not wanting to disturb her and allowing himself to drift off into that same sleep, preparing for the troubled dreams he expected to come.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, I finally updated. Hope you liked the chapter and leave me a review to tell me, because I love them...it would make a great Halloween treat! I'll try to update soon, but i have to study for my history mid-term. Well that is all...Review!**


	32. XXXII

XXXII

A young girl stood in the dark chapel, eyes bright as she looked expectantly around the room and in the shadows a dark figure, hidden from her view.

It was a strange sensation to watch the events unfold before him, to see his younger self instructing the little girl from the shadows,while he watch from above like some foreboding angel as the little girl sang for him, her bell-like voice ringing through the chapel. It was a strange dream, he noted, and the fact that he knew it was a dream made it all the more strange.

Erik cracked his eyes open when he heard the door open and close, noting that it was still very dark and most likely quite late. Fleur was still nestled up beside him, fast asleep. He gave a small sigh and shifted slightly and she didn't stir.

He listened as Colette moved around the house as quietly as she could. He knew that it was only his years spent in the darkness of the theatre that allowed him to hear her movement. He finally heard her on the stairs, probably panicking because her little girl wasn't in her bed. He managed to sit up a bit by the time she creaked open the door.

"She's here," he murmured, just loud enough that she could hear.

Colette visibly sighed and placed a hand over her heart. Erik gave a small smile and got up slowly, ensuring that the little girl wasn't disturbed. He hen glided silently across the room to the door.

"You did not think that I would let her run off, did you?" he asked, "or perhaps that I allowed a stranger to steal her away?"

"No," Colette sighed, "but I was worried when I didn't see her in her bed…I though she might've had a night mare. She's afraid of the dark."

"She told me," Erik murmured, "that is why she is here."

"I'm sorry; I didn't think she would be any trouble."

"Its fine," Erik replied, following Colette's gaze to the little girl, "everyone fears something…I just sang her to sleep."

Colette seemed surprised by that, "You what?"

"Hmm, she commented that her father used to do it, I though it might work."

"She shouldn't be able to remember that," Colette whispered.

"We all remember different things…did you have a good time?"

He could see her blush in the darkness, "Yes…I should take her back to her bed."

Erik gave a small laugh, "I can do that."

Colette didn't argue as he scooped up the little girl and carried her back to her room. Colette made sure she was tucked in perfectly before turning the light up a bit and leaving the room. Erik followed her silently, stopping in the kitchen when she did.

"Thank you for looking after her," Colette said, "I really am grateful for it."

Erik shrugged, "You cared for me when I needed it. I was merely returning the favour."

Colette touched his arm and smiled at him; he looked down at her hand for a second, but didn't pull away, "I hope she didn't talk your ear off before she went to sleep."

"No, she just told me of her father…and her brother."

Her hand closed slightly, gripping his shirt loosely, "Oh…"

"I did not know that you had a son."

"I did," she said, letting go of his shirt, "but that's the past."

"I find that the past can come back to haunt you," Erik said, noticing her aversion to the subject. He knew it was cruel, but he pressed on, "what you've done, what you didn't do, how if you changed one thing that you did, then perhaps everything would have turned out differently…you never told me how your husband died."

"An accident," she said softly, "good night, Erik."

He reached out as if to catch her sleeve, but never touched her. She stopped anyways, surprised by the motion. She had never seen him reach out to anyone, or act in such a strange manner. She turned around slowly to look at him, and he lowered his arm to his side.

"He was helping a friend build a barn, something he'd done before. He did a lot of repairs to our barn…I still remember the day perfectly. He was going out the door when Jacob ran in, he wanted to go and help out. He was twelve years old, so of course he wanted to help," she shook her head, "I didn't want him to go, he had been that week, but Andrew said that he could. 'What could it hurt?' he asked…what could it hurt?"

"An accident," Erik stated simply.

"Yeah…Fleur looks a lot like him."

"I'm sorry," Erik said, and he found that he actually was, "good night."

"Good night, Erik," she said, "sleep well."

Erik nodded and slipped back upstairs. Colette watched the stairs for a moment, trying to figure out exactly why he had been so curious as to her past. She figured it was just that, curiosity. He did seem like the curious sort. He probably just wanted to know more about them.

* * *

"What're you reading?" Meg asked, squishing herself into the sofa next to Christine. 

"Oh, it's nothing," Christine said, "just _The Magic Flute_. I found in the bookshelf a while ago."

"Oh, the theatre did that once, right?"

"Mmm hmm," Christine said.

"Oh, did you have fun last night?" Meg asked, "I thought you went to Raoul's for supper."

"Oh, yes I did. I went to meet his brother," Christine explained, "he just got back from Spain. He seems like a nice person, though Raoul seemed a bit off…"

"How so?"

"I don't know, he just seemed a bit…off," Christine gave a breathless laugh, "that probably doesn't help, but it's hard to describe. You know, when someone just doesn't seem quite like themselves?"

"I think I know what you mean."

"Yeah, it was like he was trying to be happy, but he really wasn't. It just wasn't like him, and I don't know what's wrong. It bothers me, actually."

"What do you think it was?"

"I don't know, I really don't. The only thing I could think of was the party…but that was four weeks ago…"

"Party?" Meg asked, "What happened at the party?"

"I-nothing really…Erik was there."

"Oh!" Meg gasped, unable to hide the shock from her response.

"I spent some time with him," Christine continued, "I don't know what it is, but I like to be near him, Meg…I know it bothers Raoul, and it even bothers me…I shouldn't , but I think I do…"

"Do what?" Meg asked, her brow crinkled in confusion.

Christine shrugged, "Do you think it's possible to love two men, Meg?"

Christine didn't look up, but she could tell Meg was shocked by the sound of her voice, "I don't really know…I mean, love how? You can love more than one person. I know that I love you and maman, but that isn't the same way that I would love a suitor."

"Love," Christine whispered, "it's such a powerful little word…only four letters. I mean, how long does it take to fall in love? Can it really happen overnight, or does it take a long time?"

"I don't know," Meg shrugged, "but…you love Raoul, right? I mean, you two were going to get married."

"We were," Christine said, "but I don't know if that was the right thing to do. I mean, I don't know if I want to marry him anymore…I think I still love him, but maybe not in that way. Does that make any sense?"

"Kind of," Meg mused, "but I don't think I'll ever really understand, it seems so complicated.

"It's funny," Christine said, giving a small laugh, "people always assume that I've know Raoul for longer."

"Haven't you?" Meg asked, "You said that you knew each other when you were little."

"Yes, when we were little," Christine agreed, "but I hadn't seen him in so long when he came to the theatre. I may have known Raoul first, but I've known Erik longer…since I was seven, I think."

"Seven?" Meg gasped.

"Mmm hmm, I think that's when I started my lessons with him," Christine said thoughtfully, "its funny, I always used to tell him of my problems…its kind of embarrassing to think of now, actually, but I felt so comfortable talking with him."

Meg was silent for awhile, while Christine flipped through her book, "So…do you love him?"

"I don't know," she murmured, "I think so."

"And Raoul?"

Christine just shook her head, "I don't know."

"I'm home, girls!" Antoinette called.

"Hello, maman!" Meg replied cheerfully.

"Shouldn't you two be in bed?" she asked, giving them a stern look.

"Sorry," they both said, climbing out of the chair.

"It is fine, just get going," she said.

Meg hurried out of the room while Christine replaced the book. Antoinette watched her, she had been in the hall for quite some time, just listening to their conversation.

"Good night, Madame," Christine said.

"Christine," Antoinette said, catching her arm gently, "if you ever wish to talk, my dear, I am here, and I will listen."

"Oh…thank you," she said, casting her eyes down slightly, "maybe…maybe some other time? I'm tired."

"Of course, good night."

Christine hurried off and Antoinette sighed heavily. The girl was too young for such troubles, though she noted that she was handling it rather well. The events of the past year or so had obviously forced her to grow up a bit. They had forced everyone to, to a certain degree. She could see it in her daughter as well, they were both mature for their ages. Christine because of what had happened to her, and Meg because of what had happened around her.

Antoinette gave a small shake of her head and went into the kitchen to eat a late supper of bread, cheese and cold meat. She was used to it, but she made a note to try and have a hot meal with the girls sometime. She missed spending time with them and knowing what they were thinking and doing.

She served herself a small supper and poured herself a cup of tea. It wasn't hot anymore, but it was warm enough for her. Once she was finished with that she ate at the old wooden able, pondering how she could spend more time with the girls. Maybe she would take them shopping sometime, they always enjoyed shopping.


	33. XXXIII

XXXIII

Richard visited often, every in fact. Far more often than there were things to do on the small farm. After all it was October, and most of the vegetables had already been harvested, and the single cow was hardly worth the trouble. The only real cause for help would've been Erik's own horse, as it enjoyed throwing its head and making a ruckus. Especially with Richard's mare in the barn.

"You are a troublesome beast," Erik sighed, slipping a halter over the animal's head one morning, "and for it you get to stay inside today."

The stallion gave a loud snort and trotted haughtily into the barn. Erik made sure to lock the stall firmly and close the front door. As he left he heard the mewling of the kittens that Fleur loved so much.

"Erik!" she exclaimed cheerfully, meeting him as he closed the door, "I was going to see the kitties, you wanna come?"

"You can't go into the barn today," he replied, walking away in long, quick strides.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Ragnorak is inside today, and he's upset about it," Erik answered.

"Aww, why's he inside? Is it cause he's been bad in the field?"

"Something to that effect."

"But he'll be lonely in the barn by himself," Fleur pouted, "just like Juillet."

"Yes, well that is his problem, not mine."

"Richard is coming over soon!" she announced.

"I know."

"Maman is making yummy food for supper tonight and we're gonna have a fire. Its gonna be a lot of fun."

"I see."

"You know what I think?"

"No," Erik answered, and he didn't really care either.

"I think that Richard should live here with us. He comes every day now, once he's done working and maman really likes him, and I like him too. So it would be good if he lived here, because then we wouldn't be alone like father Manson always worries."

Erik almost laughed at how simple she made it sound. But maybe she was right, he could certainly tell that Colette was in love with Richard, it was painfully obvious, actually, and it hurt a little to watch. He knew that it was foolish, but he couldn't help being jealous of people who were so blatantly in love. He had certainly had him moments with Charles. The idiot was always fawning over his wife. Giving her little kisses, whispering into her ear. He always wanted to be near her, and she wanted to be near him. That was how Colette was with Richard.

"They would have to be married for that to work," Erik said coldly.

"Then they should be married," Fleur decided, running into the house in front of him, "maman! Maman, you should marry Richard!"

Colette turned around in surprise and gave a small laugh, "What makes you say that?"

"Erik said that if he lived here you'd have to be married, so I think you should marry him so that he can live here, because I like him a lot and so do you, you said so."

"Oh, I see," Colette said, giving Erik a stern look.

"I did not say that," he grumbled.

"It isn't quite that simple, Fleur," Colette said, "Now, do you want to help me make supper?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Erik?"

"No thank you, I think I will go out for a while," he replied, slipping out the door.

* * *

The theatre buzzed with activity as Christine and Meg waited backstage. It was another performance, an evening show that featured only the ballet. Christine and Meg were in it, they were being put into performances more and more, now that their skills had been proven. It was nice for them, since they had once been used to rehearsing every day for operas.

"Break a leg," Antoinette murmured, hurrying past them to find her girls, who were nervously awaiting their first real performance.

"I hope they do well," Meg hissed, bouncing up and down.

"They will," Christine said, "they're all good dancers."

"I know, but I'm still anxious. I mean, maman did teach them."

"They'll do fine," Christine assured her, "but we won't, if you don't pay attention! The curtain's opening, turn around."

Meg sighed and turned around as the curtain rose, "Is Raoul here tonight?"

"I don't know," Christine answered, hearing the music start and watching as the first line moved onto the stage, "he might be."

After the performance Christine and Meg fought their ways back to the dressing room. Once inside they hurried to get changed out of their costumes and into more comfortable clothing. The room was packed, as usual, but they managed to find their belonging and get changed before going back out into the crowded halls.

"Christine!" Raoul called, pulling them out of the crowd and into a larger, quieter area.

"Raoul, I wasn't sure you were here," she gasped.

"I wouldn't miss it," he said quietly.

Christine gave a small smile, but noticed that he didn't kiss her this time, as he always had, "Did you like it?"

"It was wonderful," he answered, "you looked beautiful, Christine. I'm glad I came."

"I'm going to go find, maman," Meg said, gently touching Christine's arm, "it was good to see you again, Monsieur."

"You as well, Mademoiselle," he answered, then turned back to Christine, "are you hungry? We could go to the café across the street for something."

"I'm not very hungry, actually. Just tired."

"Of course," he sighed, fiddling with something in his jacket pocket "let me give you a ride home then."

"Of course, I'll just tell Madame," she said, touching his arm and hurrying off.

She found her with Meg, "Madame, Raoul is going to take me home now."

"Alright, Meg and I will be home soon."

"Merci, I'll see you then."

The carriage ride was quiet, only the rattling of the frame and the clopping of the horse's hooves provided any noise. Raoul continued to roll something over in his pocket and stare at the floor. When the carriage finally jostled to a stop he looked up.

"Thank you," Christine said, leaning over and kissing him, "I'll see you soon…we should go out to supper again soon."

"Good night," he murmured, "and we should go out to supper again…maybe sometime next week. Charles wants to invite us to dinner, so maybe then."

"That sounds wonderful," Christine said, her hand on the door, "well, good night."

"Good night, Christine…I-I love you."

A small smile fluttered across her lips as she opened the door and stepped into the night, "I…I know. Good night."

* * *

A piece of wood popped and in his mind he saw a timbre breaking in the heat, the fire crackled merrily in the night and all he could see was a building burning in his mind and destroying the lives of so many. Everyone else enjoyed the fire though, he was the only one for whom it represented something cruel and unwelcoming and yet, he didn't really care. He was tired of guilt tearing at him, he just wanted to forget.

"Here," Colette said, draping a blanket over his shoulders.

"Hmm?"

"You looked cold," she explained, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine…really."

She nodded and went back to sit beside Richard and Fleur. Father Manson was there as well, something which had surprised Erik. Colette hadn't mentioned that he would be coming, though that might have been wise, she knew that he did not like priests.

Colette looked happy, with Fleur on her lap and Richard with his arm over her shoulders; they looked like a happy little family. They were talking and laughing with each other and with Father Manson. Erik had to admit he felt a bit jealous. He would never be able to do that. Being around people generally made him uncomfortable, and sometimes crowds were better. At least then he wasn't expected to talk with other people. He never knew what to say or what to do; it was always just an awkward experience.

"Are you going to be that quiet all night?" Richard finally asked, breaking his train of thought.

"Erik doesn't like to talk," Fleur whispered loudly.

"So he isn't like you?" he asked.

Fleur giggled and shook her head, "Nope, I like to talk!"

"That you do," Colette said, "just a bit quieter please."

"Sorry," she whispered.

"You do this every year?" Erik asked, motioning towards the fire.

"Yeah," Colette said, throwing a few sticks into the flames, "it's kind of a tradition. Besides I like to have friends over for a special meal and some good times. I actually invited Antoinette, but she said that there was a performance, so she couldn't come."

"A shame," Erik muttered.

"I wanted to see them again," Fleur sighed, "when will we get to see them all again? Will they be back here for Christmas?"

"Christmas?" Erik asked.

"Oh, yes, last Christmas Antoinette and the girls stayed with us for a while."

"So that is where they went," Erik murmured, "I had wondered…"

"Will you come out for Christmas?" Fleur asked brightly.

"I have not been invited," Erik answered, "and I doubt it, I have a job in Paris, I cannot simply leave whenever I wish."

"Awww, but then you cant' bring me a present," she pouted.

"Fleur!" Colette exclaimed.

Erik just chuckled, "Perhaps I will send you something, hmm?"

"Yeah!" she nodded, "or maybe we could visit you."

Erik suppressed a small groan, "My house is rather small, I don't think it would fit everyone."

"You said that you were an architect?" Richard asked, veering the conversation in a different direction, "so, what sort of thing do you have to look forward to when you get back to Paris?"

"A great mess, most likely," Erik grumbled, "I have a feeling there will be many corrections to be made."

"Don't trust your workers?" Richard laughed.

"As a rule I don't trust anyone," Erik shrugged, "they are good, but they are not great. Simple houses don't merit the best workers."

Fleur yawned widely and rubbed her eyes. Colette just smiled at her daughter, "Well, maybe its time for bed. It's getting late."

"No," Fleur moaned, "I'm not sleepy."

"I'm tired," Erik said, standing up and allowing the blanket to slip to the ground, "good night everyone."

* * *

**A/N: Have you missed me? Or at least my updates? I'm going to try to get another chapter up tomorrow or monday, but no promises. There is simply too much school and too little time...plus I'm sort of working on two other stories and an original work for my writer's craft summatice. Wish me luck and drop me a review!**


	34. XXXIV

XXXIV

Erik yawned and stretched as the light filtered in through the window. The night before was still fresh in his mind. The cheerfully crackling fire, the comradely between everyone there. It had felt strange, but not entirely unpleasant. He vaguely wondered if he would ever be able to obtain such peacefulness for more than a fleeting moment.

"Breakfast!" Colette called, "Erik?"

"Coming!" he snapped, hauling himself off the bed and clomping down the stairs. He really wasn't a morning person and having three people staring at him as he slumped into a chair didn't help his mood.

"Good morning!" Richard said cheerfully.

Erik bit back a snarl and took the cup of coffee that Colette handed him. It was strange how quickly his mood could change from content, lying in bed, half awake to grouchy and half asleep. Richard's presence also threw him off; he wasn't used to having two overly cheerful people there in the mornings. Fleur was more than enough for him.

"Not a morning person, eh?" Richard chuckled, "you struck me more as a night hawk."

"Shh!" Fleur shushed loudly, "Erik is grumpy in the mornings, and we don't want to get him madder."

"Sorry," Richard whispered.

"I hope you're hungry," Colette smiled, placing a plate of bacon and eggs in front of everyone. Erik stared at it with distaste.

"Erik, when are you going back home?" Fleur asked, jabbing at the yolk of her egg.

"Soon," he grunted.

"But you're gonna visit again, right?"

"Yes."

"Really soon, right?"

"When I can."

"Well you are always welcome here," Colette said, then pointed at his plate, "Eat your breakfast."

"I'm not hungry," he muttered, nibbling on a piece of bacon.

"You're too thin," she scolded, "eating something won't hurt you."

Erik rolled his eyes and poked his egg with the fork. The yolk broke and ran over the white, "That is disgusting."

"So what are your plans once you get back to the city?" Richard asked.

"Work," Erik answered bluntly.

"That sounds exciting," he laughed, "nothing else?"

"Wallow in self pity?"

"Richard, are you and maman gonna go out again tonight?" Fleur asked.

"I don't' think so," he answered.

"But you can!" she exclaimed, "Cause Erik can watch me again. He can sing to me again, he's really good."

"No I'm not," Erik murmured, jabbing the egg again.

"Uh-huh! You're real good."

"No I'm not," he said, shaking his head.

"You're lying, and lying's bad," Fleur scolded, "you should sing for-"

"No!" he shouted, slamming his fists against the table. He regretted the act when Fleur's lip began to tremble as tears brightened her eyes. With a heavy sigh he ran a hand through his hair, "I…I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean to make you angry," Fleur sniffled.

"I'm not…angry," he sighed, knowing how stupid that sounded.

"You sound angry," Fleur murmured.

"Maybe…a little," he sighed, "but not at you, understand?"

Fleur nodded her head, "Not at me?"

"No, just at myself," Erik sighed, "I'm going home tomorrow…would you like to show me the kittens today?"

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, all sadness forgotten, "they're real cute."

"I believe that," he said, catching Colette's little smile.

* * *

Raoul sighed as he sat in the parlour, the ring held between his thumb and forefinger. It was beautiful; his mother had made an excellent choice. The perfectly cut sapphire sat in the silver band beautifully. It was perfect for Christine…if only he were brave enough to ask her. But he was afraid. Afraid of her answer. Afraid that if he asked she would only confirm his fears.

"Why does my little brother look so down?" Philippe asked, waltzing into the room and slumping into the nearest chair.

Raoul sighed and showed Philippe the ring. His brother gave him a sympathetic look and sighed heavily; running a hand through his short, honey coloured hair.

"That girl has you running in circles, doesn't she?" he asked, "she's a pretty little thing, I'll give you that. But really, Raoul, do you think this is a wise choice? I mean, she is a dancer…and all the scandal?"

"I love her, Philippe," Raoul sighed, "and I want to marry her…"

"I enjoy dancers as much as the next man, Raoul," Philippe said, "but that does not mean that I want to marry one. Maybe she isn't for you. She's young, and so are you. Look around a little, think about it first. Marrying someone with a title and having a mistress is not uncommon."

"I'm not you, Philippe," Raoul sighed, "I do not have affairs and romances. I do not care what our parents think, I want to marry her and her alone…but I do not know if she wants it anymore. She did once, but…so much has happened since then."

"No, you aren't," Philippe sighed, "but you are my brother, and I care deeply for you. I hate to see you so upset. Why don't we go out for the evening and have a bit of fun? Nothing too risky, just something to get your mind off things for a while. Put that ring away and come with me."

Raoul sighed and slid the ring back into his pocket, "Very well."

"Good," Philippe laughed, blue eyes containing a hint of mischief, "come with me then, I'll get the horses."

* * *

Christine sighed as she looked at her reflection in the mirror and began braiding her hair for sleep. Meg always complained about how difficult her hair was to braid, but she had never had trouble with it.

In the mirror she could see the violin case, hidden away in the corner by her bed where it remained day in and day out. She quickly tied off the braid and went over to the corner, lifting the case off of the floor and placing it on her bed. She wondered if this had been the violin he had used in their lessons, the one he had weaved so many beautiful melodies on. Reverently she opened the case to reveal the instrument, its surface shining in the dim light of the room.

Carefully she ran her fingers over the surface of the dark instrument. The wood was so smooth, with no scratches or marks upon it. It had obviously been perfectly cared for its entire life. Her father's violin had probably once been that beautiful, but from so much use it had become scratched and worn. Christine had a feeling Erik had had his violin for just as long, but it made sense that he would have taken such good care of it.

She reached in and lifted the bow out of the case and then the violin, placing it under her chin as her father had done. She wouldn't play it, the violin would need tuning and the bow needed resin, but it felt good to hold the instrument. He wondered if he missed it, or if he had replaced it with another. After all, she had no doubts that he could afford it.

A knock on the door made her jump and she hurriedly began to put the violin away, "One moment!" she called, closing the case and placing it back in the corner, "yes?"

Antoinette opened the door a crack before entering, "I just came to say good night," she said.

"Oh…good night."

"You seem upset as of late," Antoinette commented a bit awkwardly, "is something bothering you?"

"I don't really know," Christine said, sitting down on the bed, "I guess I've just been thinking a lot, and I've come to some conclusions, but I'm not entirely sure if they are the right ones."

"I see," Antoinette said, "sitting on the chair, "you can talk to me about it, if you want."

"Oh…well, alright, thank you. I-I've been thinking about Raoul, actually."

"He is a fine young man," Antoinette said, "he loves you very much and he is kind and gentle. But you know all that, non?"

"Yes," Christine agreed," he's so kind…but, I don't think I want to marry him…not anymore. I've changed so much since the theatre…the fire. I still love him, I think, and I don't want to hurt him, Madame, I care for him too much. He's such a dear friend and he was there for me even when he didn't understand why."

"Does he know this?" Antoinette asked.

Christine shook her head glumly, "No…I haven't told him yet. He still loves me, and he stills wants to be married, I know, but I just can't…"

"You have to tell him," Antoinette said, sitting on the bed beside her, "you know that, right?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I just don't know how."

"Just tell him the truth," Antoinette advised, "he will understand, I am sure."

"I hope so," Christine sighed, "we're going out to supper at the Armands soon. I guess I'll tell him after…"

Antoinette gave her a one armed hug and went back to the door, "Follow your heart, my dear, and do as it tells you and everything will be fine."

"I only wish it would be a bit clearer," Christine said with a weak smile, "good night, Madame, sleep well."

"You as well, Christine."

The door closed and Christine curled up on top of the bed. She would tell him after their dinner, she promised herself that. It would give her time to think it over and decide what to say.


	35. XXXV

XXXV

Christine swept her hair back and out of her face, tying it quickly as she stuffed her dance things into her satchel, hurrying to get out of the theatre in time for Raoul to pick her up. They were going to the Armands for supper that night, and she was already running behind. Meg jostled in behind her, shoving leg warmers into her bag as she got ready to catch the omnibus as well.

"You're going out tonight, right?" Meg asked, sticking a hairpin in her mouth.

"Yeah," Christine nodded while her friend pinned her hair into a bun, "I have to get home and change still."

"Mmm," Meg grunted, placing a final pin in her hair, "come on then, let's go!"

They managed to catch the omnibus and get back to their house fairly quickly. Christine immediately ran up to her room and began to get ready. She changed into a dark green dress and did her make-up before putting her hair of in a chignon. Antoinette came in just as she was attempting to put the final pin in and gave a small laugh.

"Here, allow me to help you," she said, taking the hair pins and redoing it, "would you like me to do up your dress?"

"Thank you, Madame," Christine said, fixing her make-up.

"I figured you would want some help," she said, watching as Christine applied a bit of blush, it made her look more grown up, she noted, "there, you look beautiful, my dear."

"Is Raoul here yet?" she asked, wringing her hands together.

"Non," Antoinette answered, handing her a pair of delicate white gloves, "but he will be soon."

Christine gave a nervous smile, "Of course, I should go down and wait for him."

Christine hurried down the stairs in time to hear a knock at the door; she quickly opened it and offered Raoul a weak smile. He returned it with a weary one, "Good evening, Christine.

"Hello," she said, kissing his cheek, "umm, would you like to come in for a minute or-"

"We should get going," he interrupted, "but thank you. Madame Giry, I will have her back before midnight, I promise."

"I trust you, young man," she answered, "have fun tonight."

"Merci," he said, stepping aside and allowing Christine to step out the door.

Antoinette stopped her briefly and draped a dark blue cape over her shoulders for warmth, "Thank you," Christine said, fastening it and stepping into the carriage while Raoul held the door.

Raoul stepped in after her, closing the door with a sharp click, the carriage then jolted forward and began clopping down the streets. Christine folded her hands in her lap and smiled at Raoul, who had his hand in his pocket again. She wondered what was inside, though she didn't ask. It seemed to rude to do so, after all, it was most likely nothing of importance. A watch, perhaps.

"Charles is glad we're coming," he said at length, breaking the long, awkward silence, "he says that he and Danielle met you at the theatre the other day."

"Oh, yes…they did. They were there for a performance and said hello backstage."

"He said that you were very good," Raoul murmured, "as did my brother. He went the other day as well…he enjoys the dancing, or the dancers. I'm not entirely sure which.

"Oh," Christine murmured, noticing the blush that had crept into Raoul's cheeks.

"Yes," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, "well, when is your next performance?"

"In three days," Christine said, wondering if he was planning to attend and feeling a sharp pang of guilt at the thought. She still wanted him to come.

"I see…maybe I'll go. I think Philippe will, so I might as well."

"I-if you'd like," she answered, glancing out the window as they began to leave the city, "but you don't have to. I mean, if you have more important things to do."

Raoul was silent for a while, "I would never be too busy for you."

Another sharp pang of guilt that was masked with a kind smile. That was her only response, as the carriage jolted to a stop. Within seconds the driver opened the door and allowed Raoul out. He immediately turned and offered her his arm as she stepped out. She took it and allowed him to lead her up the stairs and to the door.

* * *

Erik sighed and sketched out another line on the page in front of him. It was a beautiful house, a mansion that would contain all of the finest things. Marble floors, a spiralling staircase, the finest carpets and furniture. Everything would be perfect in the house, from the music room to the dining room and everything in between.

With a small groan he set down the pencil and leaned back in the chair, resting his head on the back of the chair. It had been a long day and he was tired and stiff from working. The day had been cool and it had rained from a good part of the morning and into the afternoon, making any work outdoors more than a little uncomfortable. But that hadn't stopped him; he had needed to check up on the progress, even if the houses were nothing exceptional. He had needed to ensure that the workers were doing their work properly, and was pleased to discover that they were. It had, however, left him cold, wet and with a headache pounding silently in his temple.

He got out of the chair, which gave a loud creak, and made his way to the bathroom, where he prepared a hot bath as quickly as would be allowed and climbed into the tub. The hot water felt good against his skin and he leaned his head back to rest on the cool rim of the tub, allowing the water to lap lazily at his chest. He wondered vaguely why he didn't have hot baths more often.

He remained in the tub until the water began to grow cold and only then took the bar of soap and washed off the dirt and sweat from the day, removing his mask and wig before dunking his head in the water to wash all the soap off. He then got out of the tub and dried off quickly before putting on a robe and going back out to the parlour to look over his work again, to decide if he liked it or not. Once that was done he went to the bedroom and lay down with a heavy sigh. He had been finding the house oddly quiet after spending so much time with Colette and Fleur, and could not decide whether he liked it or not.

* * *

Christine smiled as they walked toward the door, Charles still talking Raoul's ear off and Raoul smiling and nodding along with his friend. Danielle was beside her, holding her arm and laughing.

"I'm afraid you might never get away," she sighed, "my husband could talk forever."

"That's fine," Christine laughed, "they're friends, they should be able to talk."

Danielle smiled at her, "I'm glad you could come, it was a lovely evening. You should come for dinner more often. Or afternoon tea sometime, if you aren't too busy."

"I'd like that," Christine said, a hint of sadness in her voice. If she was not with Raoul then would she be able to visit the Armands, or was he the only reason she could go? After all, Charles was Raoul's friend, not hers. Though Danielle did call her a friend.

"Well then, you will have to come over some time," Danielle said cheerfully, "and you and I can have tea."

Christine smiled at that, "Yes, sometime, that would be nice."

Raoul managed to get away from Charles at the door, and retrieved Christine's cape from the servant. He laid it on her shoulders and fastened it for her, a small smile playing on his lips. Christine adjusted it and pulled on her gloves.

"It was a wonderful evening, Monsieur Armand," she said, smiling while Charles kissed her hand.

"I am glad that you two could make it," he replied, "have a safe trip home."

"Thank you," Raoul said, "I hope to see you again soon, Charles. Philippe is back, as you know, and I'm sure he would delight to see you again, as s well as meet Danielle."

"Hmm, I'm not sure if I want him near my wife," Charles teased, "I hear he had a good time in Spain, though. Charming the Spanish women."

"It is Philippe," Raoul said, rolling his eyes, "well, good night. I have to get Christine home before it gets too late."

The got into the waiting carriage and began the ride back into the city. The ride was quiet, for the most part, with a few comments on the dinner and how it was nice to visit with the Armands again. Christine could tell that there was something on Raoul's mind, though he wouldn't say what.

"Christine, I have to…ask you something,' he said once they were in the city.

"Oh?" Christine asked, watching as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled it out again.

"I know that you've been wanting to wait," he began, staring at his hands while he spoke, "and I-I have tried to understand that, and have been patient about it, but…I-I love you, Christine and…"

She watched as he picked the ring out of the palm of his hand, the silver band glinting in the moonlight. It was beautiful, but when she saw the sapphire engagement ring she could help but feel dread at what she knew was to come.

"Raoul I…" she trailed off as he lifted her hand and took off the glove, slipping the ring onto her finger.

"To replace the one you lost," he said softly.

She bit her lip and fought back the tears. He made it sound as if she had done just that, lost the ring instead of given it away. But then again, she had never told him what had happened to it. For all he knew the ring was somewhere in the depths of the _Opera Populaire_. Technically, she supposed, they had been engaged the entire time; she was just without a ring.

"Raoul, I-"

"We don't' have to talk about it now," he interrupted, "we can talk about it some other time, in a few weeks, perhaps…"

She tried to smile at him, but found that her muscles wouldn't allow it. Tears were already stinging her eyes and she was grateful when the carriage finally stopped in front of her house. She quickly reached for the handle and opened the door, allowing the cold night air to be responsible for her tears.

"Good night, Raoul," she said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded, "I-I'll see you soon."

He nodded his head grimly, as if he knew that the ring was just an illusion. Then he leaned forward and kissed her, a deeply passionate and desperate kiss, as if he never wanted it to end. A heavy sigh escaped his lips when they separated, and Christine thought that she could see tears in his eyes.

"I love you," he said, running his thumb over her face, "good night."

She nodded her head and hurried to the door, flinging it open and closing it quickly and quietly behind her. She could see the light coming from the parlour and took a deep breath in attempts to compose herself before poking her head into the room.

"I'm home," she said, pasting a smile on her face.

"Did you have a good time?" Antoinette asked, looking up from a book.

"Yes, it was fun."

"Would you like some tea before bed?"

"No thank you, I think I'll just go to bed. Its been a long day."

"Of course, good night."

Christine gave a small wave before going up to her room. There she removed the cape and draped it over the back of the chair. She then proceeded to take down her hair, carefully placing the pins on the dressing table before brushing it out and braiding it for bed. She washed her face and changed into her night gown and turned the lights down before pulling the covers back on the bed.

As she did that the moonlight glinted off the ring now occupying her finger and tears sprang into her eyes and a sob caught in her throat. Why did everything have to be so complicated, why couldn't Raoul have never come to the theatre, why did he have to recognize her and then pursue her. Why had she followed Erik through the mirror and why had she removed his mask? Why had anything happened? It seemed almost like a dream now, a terribly vivid dream. Something from a fairy tale.

She allowed a quiet sob to escape as she curled up under the covers. She didn't know what to do anymore. If Raoul had just waited instead of giving her the ring. If she had only been able to tell him before he slipped it onto her finger. Maybe she should have cancelled supper with him and allowed him to go alone. But it was all finished now, and she knew that she had to fix it. But even if she did tell him, even if she did break off the engagement and return the ring. Then what? She hadn't spoken to Erik in so long, she didn't even know if he still loved her. If she did leave Raoul, would Erik accept her back, or would he turn her away too?

Too many questions and not enough answers. It was strange how so many thoughts surfaced in the dark. How in the silence the thoughts seemed to echoe through the mind, bringing up all the troubles and worries that plagued it that were suppressed during the hustle and bustle of the day.

* * *

**A/N: Another chapter to you and...back to school for me. Eek! Dont' want to be late. umm...review please and thank you, I _really do_ want to hear from you!**


	36. XXXVI

XXXVI

Meg watched as her friend sat on the bench of the dressing room, slowly tying her Pointe shoes and fiddling with the practise skirts. They had to help with a class in ten minutes, but Christine had been acting strangely all morning. She had barely touched her breakfast and had been quiet all through practise, and she hadn't had any lunch.

"What's wrong, Christine?" Meg asked, sitting down beside her.

"Nothing," Christine answered, placing her hands between her knees, "I guess I'm just a little tired."

"Are you sick?" Meg persisted, "you look a bit pale."

"No," Christine sighed, "I'm not sick…come on, we'll be late."

Meg caught her arm as she headed for the door, "Maybe you should go home and get some sleep."

"I'm fine, Meg!" Christine replied more harshly than she intended, "come on, Madame will wonder where we are."

Meg nodded her head and followed Christine out of the dressing room and towards the sounds of the girls chattering before lessons started. She couldn't be sure what was wrong; she had been fine the day before. Perfectly happy and cheerful, though a bit rushed. The only thing she could think of was the supper with Raoul, and wondered if something had happened. She knew that Christine was thinking about her relationship with him, after all, they had talked about it.

"Christine," Meg said before they stepped into the room, "maybe we could go shopping after the lessons and get some hot chocolate and pastries at the café?"

"I don't know, Meg…"

"Please?" Meg asked, pouting a bit, "it'll be fun, and we haven't done it in a long time."

"Well…alright," Christine sighed, "that sounds…fun, I guess."

Meg smiled brightly and hurried into the room, where Antoinette gave them stern looks, "You are late."

"Sorry," they both murmured.

The class was oddly long that day, and by the time they were changed and ready to go home the weather had turned. Sheets of cold rain fell from the sky, leaving the streets bright and empty. Christine and Meg stood in the entrance of the theatre and let out low groans. Even if they could obtain a carriage or catch the omnibus, they knew that by the time they were inside they would both be soaked.

"Do we have enough money for a carriage?" Meg asked meekly.

"I doubt it, and we'd never be able to catch one in this weather," Christine sighed.

"Maybe we could wait it out," Meg suggested, though the dark clouds did not look as if they would let up any time soon, "it might stop soon."

"We'd be here all night," Christine sighed, watching as a carriage splashed down the streets, its wheels and the hooves of the drenched horse sending up sprays of water, "but maybe there'll be a break in the rain…or we could just walk."

"We'd be soaked!"

"Its just water, Meg. It won't kill you."

"What if we got sick? Maman would kill us for walking home."

Christine sighed and opened the door, stepping out into the cold air and deciding that it would be wiser to wait inside the warm theatre rather than under the large overhang. Meg was right, they would get sick if they walked home, or at the very least they would be very cold.

"Well?" Meg asked.

"I think we should wait," Christine said, moving to one of the uncomfortable chairs of the lobby, "you're right; we'd get sick walking home in that."

Meg followed her and sat down in the chair beside her, placing her satchel on the floor and sighing heavily, "And I had really wanted to get some hot chocolate."

"We can get some if it stops raining," Christine murmured.

"You seem really down today," Meg commented, hoping not to upset her friend, "do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Christine said, running one fingernail under another, "there's really nothing to talk about…"

"Oh…"

"Meg, you and Madame are going away in a few days, right?" Christine asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. We're going to visit her cousin, I think. It'll only be for one night. I'm sorry that you couldn't come."

"Its fine," Christine assured her, "I can take care of myself."

"Well, maybe you could come," Meg suggested, "or stay somewhere. It will be lonely at the house by yourself."

"I'll only be alone for one night," Christine murmured, "I think the rain is letting up; we should get going before it starts again."

* * *

Erik slammed the door as he entered the house, soaking wet and dripping on the floor. He heard the maid give a small scream at the sound of the door, and stormed into the parlour to enjoy the heat of the fire. That immediately got her to stick her head into the room.

"My goodness, Monsieur!" she clucked, "You're soaked through. GO and get changed right now, I'll make some tea."

Erik rolled his eyes, "I do believe that you work for me, therefore I do not have to do what you tell me."

"You'll get to be terribly sick if you don't get out of those wet clothes right now," she scolded, bustling up behind his and shooing him away from the fire, "go, go! You're dripping all over the floor and I wont' have you getting sick. Hurry up now!"

Erik grumbled and turned away, pulling his shoulder away as she tried to push him along, "Fine, I'll change my damn clothes!"

"Good, hurry now."

Erik snorted softly as he changed into dry clothes. He had been standing around and walking in the same wet clothes all day. Well, at least since the rain had started. With an irritable sigh he tugged at the sleeve of his fresh shirt to ensure it was straight and quickly buttoned it up before heading back to the parlour, where the maid had set a cup of tea on the desk.

"I'm off now, there's some soup on the stove, though I know you won't eat it," she said, putting on her hat and coat, "have a good evening."

Erik sighed and picked up the cup of tea, swallowing the scorching liquid in one gulp before going into the kitchen. Sure enough there was a pot of soup on the stove, filling the air with the scent of onions. He gave a small sigh as his stomach growled and resigned himself to eating a meal. Onion soup wasn't so bad, after all.

The next day he spent at his desk, working on the meticulous sketch of the large house. It was turning out far better than he had imagined something which pleased him greatly. The maid, of course, bustled around in the background for the greater part of the morning, and much of the afternoon, berating him on spending so much time staring at a piece of paper.

"It isn't health," she said, shaking her head, "you need to eat and get out in the fresh air."

Erik gave her a questioning look and glanced out the window at the dreary weather, "yes, I am sure that taking a walk in this weather would do me good."

She puffed at that, "Humph, fine, but when you have a splitting headache from staring at all those blasted lines, don't complain tome."

"Believe me," Erik muttered under his breath, "I would not."

"Pardon?"

He ignored her by turning back to his sketch. It was almost finished; he just needed to work out the rest of the floor plan.

"Fine," the maid chirped, "I'm off for the day then."

Erik waved his hand irritably as she bundled herself up and left the house, closing the door loudly behind her. He was beginning to wonder why he had the maid, she proved to be more of a nuisance than anything else. Though he spent enough time out of the house that it didn't really matter. It was only when he was working that she caused any trouble.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and by the time he pulled himself away from his work he admitted to the headache that was throbbing dully in his temples. He gave a small groan and pinched the bridge of his nose before going into the kitchen to find something to eat. A loaf of bread and cheese suited him well and he quickly prepared a small meal before finding his cloak and leaving the house. A bit of fresh air would be nice, and he preferred the city at night. There were less people to bother him and no workers to complain to him while he observed the construction.


	37. XXXVII

XXXVII

"You're sure?" Meg asked.

"Yes!" Christine exclaimed in fake exasperation.

"Meg, we have to go, my dear," Antoinette said, "Christine, I trust that you will be fine for one night. We will be in Épône visiting my cousin."

"I know," Christine replied, "I'll be fine here."

"Very well, au revoir."

"Bye," Christine said, accepting a small hug from Antoinette and a larger one from Meg.

"You know if-"

"Good bye, Meg," Christine said, pushing her friend towards the door, "the carriage is waiting!"

Antoinette took her daughter's had Meg go to the carriage before her and turned back to Christine, "Are you certain that you will be alright?"

"Yes," Christine replied quietly, knowing that Antoinette had been worried over her, "its only one night, and your cousin is expecting you. I promise, I'll be fine."

"Very well, there is bread and cheese in the kitchen, and money in the drawer, if you wish to go and purchase something," Antoinette said, patting her hand, "we will be back tomorrow evening."

Christine nodded and Antoinette went and climbed into the carriage. A moment later it jolted forward and clattered away. Once it was gone, Christine allowed the small smile to fade from her face and went back into the house. Already it was eerily quiet and empty and it unnerved her. With a small sigh she went into the parlour and picked a book off the shelf before curling up in the armchair to read it.

It wasn't long before the silence of the house became unnerving. She was so used to Meg prattling on about something, Madame being in the kitchen, or a fire crackling in the hearth that the utter silence was bothersome.

She closed the book and placed it on the table with a dull thud before getting up and wandering through the house. Even the sound of her own footsteps was comforting in the silence and she went up to her room and picked her brush off of the dressing table and caught site of the violin hidden in the corner of the room. She placed the brush back on the table and went to pick up the case.

Once again she opened it and removed the violin, placing it on the bed and then taking up the bow and looking at it. It was in good condition, surprisingly, considering how long it had been in the case. None of the hairs seemed to be damaged, in fact it looked perfect. She reached into the case and took the rosin out and began to apply it the bow as her father had always done, she then lifted the violin and placed it under her chin and drew the bow across the strings.

It wasn't tuned, she knew that immediately, but the sound wasn't as terrible as she had thought it would be. Her father had once taught her to play a song on the violin. It had been terribly difficult for her, as her hands were so small. But he had always praised her and followed up by playing her favourite song…Erik had played that song for her once. Most likely on the very violin she held in her hand.

She sighed quietly and placed the violin back on the bed, laying the bow beside it before gently placing hem back in the case. She glanced down at her finger and the sapphire engagement ring that now rested upon it and, with a small twist, pulled it off and locked it in the drawer of the dressing table before closing the violin case and lifting it off the bed.

She couldn't remember where the envelope had gone after the night she had confronted Meg and Antoinette, but she had a feeling that Madame had not thrown it away, so she carefully went through the book shelf downstairs and then proceeded to go through the varying drawers that it might be found in. She finally discovered it hidden under another letter in Antoinette's drawer. She took it out and quickly found her cloak and the violin case. She would go before she had a chance to change her mind.

She didn't bother to find a carriage, she wasn't sure that she would be able to pay for one, but instead began the walk to the address. She was not entirely sure where the street was, but with a bit of help she managed to find it and make her way to the small house, violin case held firmly in one hand and envelope clutched tightly in the other.

"This is it," she murmured, glancing back down at the address and then at the house again. It was small than she would have imagined. With a deep breath she went up to the door and rapped her knuckles firmly against it.

No one answered for what seemed like ages, and then footsteps could be heard in the hallway and the sound of a lock clicking greeted her ears. Her heart pounded in her chest as the door opened and she immediately wondered what she would say and how he would react.

"Yes, dear?" an older woman asked.

"Oh," Christine gasped, the sight of the maid catching her off guard. She was such a friendly looking woman, a bit round with rosy cheeks and kind brown eyes, "I…is-is Erik, err. Is Monsieur Sabina here?"

The maid gave a warm smile and a small chuckle, "No, he isn't in right now, I'm afraid."

"Oh…"Christine said, her heart dropping, "well, thank you. Have a good day, Madame."

"Wait a moment," the maid said, clucking her tongue, "why don't you come in and wait for him, I'm sure he won't be back too late."

"I don't know," Christine said, tapping the violin case, "I don't want to be any rouble."

"None at all," the maid said, ushering her into the front hall, "why don't you go and sit in the parlour?"

Christine gave a small nod and went into the small room, sitting on the single armchair that occupied the room. She quickly noted the desk in the corner, and the many papers strewn across it. Carefully she set the violin case down beside the chair and looked around. It was so strange to be in his house.

"He's out working today," the maid told her, straightening a pile of papers, "goodness, he is a messy person. I can't ever keep this place straightened for more than a few hours when he's around."

"Is he home often?" Christine asked.

"It depends. Sometimes he spends hours just sitting here and doing whatever it is he does, other times he's out and about for days on end."

"I see."

"But, like I said, he should be home fairly soon, though predicting his moves isn't exactly easy. He's a bit odd, you know? I'm sure if he knew that you were coming, though, he wouldn't keep you waiting."

"He doesn't actually know I'm here," Christine murmured, "I-I just kind of decided to come today."

"Oh, well none the less."

Christine gave a small smile and shifted in the chair. The maid seemed very friendly at least, though she could feel her courage failing her slowly. It would have been better if he had opened the door, that way she would have immediately known how he felt He could have either invited her in or sent her away. Simple. Now she was stuck waiting in his parlour for him to return.

"Why are you here?"

"Pardon?" Christine asked, looking up at the maid.

"I was just wondering what you were here for," the maid asked, "I'd assume you must be a friend, or else an acquaintance of sorts, but he never really talks about anyone. You'd think he didn't know anybody."

Christine gave a small, strained laugh, "He, umm, designed a house for a close friend, actually," Christine said, making up a plausible story as she went, "before he came to Paris. I-I actually came to return something…"

* * *

Erik sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as the worker prattled on about all the problems they were having. Really there should have been no problems. It was a small project, something an imbecile could deal with, but apparently there was something that involved rain and an unexpected death. 

"I really do not care!" Erik said, exasperated.

"B-but…we're short four workers and-"

"Deal with it," Erik interrupted, "this project in no way needs the number of workers that were working. Simply finish it without them."

"But-but with all the rain, and then-"

"I do not need excuses," Erik growled, "get back to work!"

The worker scowled a bit, but nodded his head, "Fine, but we're done for the day at least."

Erik shook his head and stormed away from the house with a disgruntled snort. He hated working with people; they always got on his nerves. All they ever seemed to do was complain about one thing or another.

The walk home was somewhat calming, it gave him time to think and work out the problems of the day. He decided that upon returning home he would have a hot bath and spend the night either reading or working on house designs. He was thinking about searching for a larger commission, something that would involve intricate details. Armand probably knew of someone who was searching for an architect, perhaps he could use the man for something after all.

He sighed when he finally reached the house and reached for the handle. The door opened before he could even touch the cool metal and the maid appeared. He gave her a half-hearted scowl for being in his way.

"Oh, I was just heading off," she said cheerfully, "oh, there's-"

"I know," he grumbled, assuming she would inform him that there was something for supper in the kitchen, "good bye."

She gave a small squawk as he pushed past and closed the door. He didn't give it a second thought and went towards the parlour, loosening his cravat slightly. He was barely in the door when he saw her sitting in the chair, twisting a dark curl nervously around her finger. Apparently he made a noise, for she suddenly turned around and her eyes widened as she jumped out of the chair.

"Erik!" she gasped, "I-I didn't hear you come in."

* * *

**A/N: Ooh, a chapter! Its not very long, but its something. I'll try to get somethign up again soon, though I am currently muddling over an idea for a screenplay...and I've got nothing! (cries). Oh well, I've got all weekend to think of one...curse you writer's craft. CURSE YOU! Umm, oh yeah...REVIEW!**


	38. XXXVIII

XXXVIII

Erik stared at Christine for a moment, still trying to register her presence in his parlour. It seemed surreal. There she was, his angel, staring at him with wide timid eyes, twisting a curl around her finger and chewing nervously on her lower lip.

"That is fine," he said at length, stepping into the parlour, "you may sit, if you wish."

"Oh," she nodded her head and sat down, folding her hands in her lap, "it-its good to see you again."

Erik nodded his head slowly, standing beside the desk chair, but not sitting, "Indeed…why are you here, Miss Daae?"

"I-I came to see you and…to return something of yours."

He frowned, "Return what?"

Christine reached down and pulled something out from beside the chair, lifting it up onto her lap. Erik's heart skipped a beat when he recognized the case of his violin, "Where did you get that?"

"Meg gave it to me," she said softly, "a while ago…she said that she found it under the theatre."

"I had wondered…thank you."

"You're welcome," Christine said, standing up and offering it to him. He took it from her carefully and set it down beside the desk.

"Would you care for some tea?" he asked, "or something to eat?"

"Oh, umm…tea would be nice, thank you."

He gave a small nod and slipped out of the room and into the kitchen. Christine waited quietly; once again looking around the room, without the maid the house was terribly quiet. Only the dull clink of dishes could be heard in the kitchen. Erik returned a few minutes later with two cups and a teapot. He carefully placed the cups on the table and filled them.

"Do you take anything in your tea?"

"Oh, no thank you," Christine said, "plain is fine."

He nodded and put the pot down, claiming his own cup and sitting in the wooden desk chair. Christine gave a nervous smile and sipped her tea, she noticed that Erik didn't, he simply held the cup in his hand and watched her. It was a bit unnerving.

"I-I hope you've been well," she murmured, trying to break the silence.

"I have. And you, Miss Daae?"

She bit her lip at the formality in his voice, "Everything has been going well."

"That is good to hear."

* * *

The silence seemed to drag on forever. It was strange, she had thought of so many thing to say before hand, but suddenly she could remember none of them, and he wasn't about to say anything. His eyes remained focussed on the teacup, though he never drank from it. Christine took another sip from her cup and sighed. It could have used milk, actually.

"I apologize," he said, glancing up, "I'm not very skilled in making tea, it is probably too strong."

"No, its fine!" she said hurriedly. A small smile flickered across his lips.

"Do not lie to me. It is terrible."

"It's a little strong," she said sheepishly.

Erik nodded his head and set his own cup back on the table and picked up the violin case. Christine watched as he set it on his lap and opened it, carefully removing and inspecting the violin.

"It's still in perfect shape," Christine said, "I-I looked at it. Its beautiful…my father's was never that well maintained."

Erik nodded his head, but continued to look over it, running his fingers over the smooth wood and inspecting the strings and the horse hair in the bow. It wasn't until he seemed perfectly content that he put it back in the case and then placed the case back beside the desk.

"If you would like, there is a small roast in the kitchen," he said, motioning towards the door, "would you care to join me for supper?"

Christine gave a small smile as her stomach clenched in hunger, "Yes, thank you."

He stood up slowly and motioned for her to follow. She did and stepped into the kitchen, where he quickly prepared two plates, setting them both on the small wooden table. She once again struck by how small the house was as she sat down at the table. He sat opposite her and watched her again as she began to eat, not touching his own food.

"Aren't you hungry?" Christine asked softly.

He pushed a few pieces of meat around the plate and shook his head, "I do not normally eat dinner."

"Oh…then why-"

"The maid is…persistent, I suppose that would be the right word. She always ensures I have something to eat, even if it is a waste."

"I see…I-I hope I haven't disrupted your evening. You didn't have any plans, did you?"

He gave a small laugh and shook his head, "No, you needn't worry about that…tell me, how did you get here, Christine?"

"I walked," she said, watching as he stabbed a small piece of meat.

"And how did you know where to come?"

Christine gave a small shrug, "I-I used the envelope from Madame's letter…the one you sent her."

Erik frowned slightly, "I see…you are living with her then?"

"Yes, her and Meg. I've been with them since the fire," she said. He nodded his head slightly and placed his plate on the counter.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes," she said, sliding the plate towards him.

"I do not believe that Madame Girt would allow you to come by yourself. How did you manage to…" he trailed off thoughtfully, "she must be away."

"Her and Meg have gone away for the night," Christine said, "the house was so quiet and empty…I guess I just finally decided to return the violin. I had thought of it before, but there never seemed to be the opportunity…"

"How do you intend to get back?" Erik asked.

"I-I guess I'll just walk," Christine shrugged, "I was hoping we could talk a bit more, though. I mean…I'd like to, if it was possible."

She could see his thinking about it, and when he finally nodded his head and motioned towards the parlour she felt relief course through her. She had been so afraid that he would turn her away again. She smiled at him and went to sit in the armchair.

"What do you wish to talk about, Christine?" he asked, settling into the wooden chair.

"I don't really know," she shrugged, "your maid said you were working today…what are you working on?"

He turned slightly and riffled through the numerous papers before pulling out one of the sheets, "Nothing extravagant."

Christine took the paper and looked over the houses that were sketched upon it, "These are good."

"Hmm," he shrugged and took the paper back, placing upon the pile on the desk.

"Do you-do you compose anymore?"

"No, I do not," Erik said, running his thumb over his bottom lip, "and I have no intentions of returning to music. An architect is an honest living, no? And it has earned me a place in society, I am content with that."

"But you created such beautiful music," Christine murmured, "It seems a shame…"

"It is what I have chosen," he said firmly, "just as you have chosen your new life, I have chosen mine. I create buildings now."

"Its funny, I never pictured your house like this…it's so different from what I imagined."

"And what did you imagine?"

"Something larger…grander, I suppose. After seeing Monsieur Armand's home I guess I saw you in something a bit like that, but not quite so large."

"I see."

"It's a nice house though, this one. Its kind of quaint…cozy."

"Cozy?" he asked, looking around the room, "I find it a bit cramped at times, actually."

Christine gave a small laugh and he raised his eyebrow at her, "Sorry, I was just remembering the maid. You two don't get along, do you?"

He smirked, "No, we do not."

"She's a kind woman," Christine said thoughtfully, "she invited me in when I came. I was surprised; actually, I hadn't expected you to be away…I guess I wasn't really thinking."

"She has a kind heart," Erik agreed, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, "she has often left me at a loss for words. No matter what I do she always returns. If I were her, I would have quit long ago."

"Surely you're not that terrible?" Christine jested.

"At times I am," he admitted.

Christine smiled at the comment and noticed how his eyes shone in the fading light. She had never really noticed it before; they were such a brilliant green when the light reflected off them properly. She reached out slowly to touch his cheek, but he drew back, almost nervously.

"You have such beautiful eyes," she murmured, "I never noticed how green they are before."

"They change," he muttered.

Christine nodded and gently brushed the back of her hand against his cheek. She felt him shudder at the touch and watched as he closed his eyes and pulled away, letting out a held breath. She smiled faintly and tried again, letting her fingers trace his cheekbone and jaw line, she hesitated when she reached his lips, but gently traced them as well. When they parted slightly she couldn't help but smile. Slowly she slid her other hand over his heart, feeling it hammering through his shirt.

It was strange to be so close to him, and yet so far. She could feel his skin beneath her fingers, the slightest trace of stubble. His lips were soft, but dry from being outside. His warm breath blew continually against her fingertips.

She moved her hand again, this time to trace the edge of the mask. His breath hitched, but she ignored it, moving her fingers slowly over the smooth contours of the cold leather. It was such a contrast to his warm skin.

"Christine!" She froze at the sound of her name whispered harshly and removed her hand slowly, moving it down to his chest. His chin dropped slightly and his lips parted in a sigh.

Those lips were so tempting, even when they closed. She could still remember the kiss under the opera, how warm and passionate it had been. She wanted to taste that again, to feel that fire again, but she wasn't sure how.

Slowly she moved forward and pressed her lips against his. It was a small victory, she told herself, that he did not pull away, but he didn't respond either. For was felt like an eternity he did not move, he remained frozen. She drew back, trying not to let disappointment consume her. She knew that she should not have expected anything, but it didn't stop her from wishing for it.

Suddenly she felt a strong finger on her chin and a thumb pressed gently under her lip. Helplessly she was drawn back as his lips met hers, capturing a slow, languid kiss that stole her breath. She let out a small gasp and parted her lips when his tongue darted tentatively against her lips.

She moved forward, and felt the low groan escape him as she sat on his lap and ran her hands over his chest as the kiss deepened. Slowly he kissed the edge of her lips, trailing kisses slowly down her neck. Christine moaned softly as she felt his teeth graze her delicate skin. He returned to her mouth and it was her turn to part his lips with her tongue, earning a low growl as his hands slid slowly down her back.

He broke away first, breathing hard and holding her shoulders as if for support, though. Christine moved forward for another kiss, but he shook his head, still breathing hard.

"No, just-just a moment…" he panted, "I just-I need a moment."

Christine nodded slowly and waited while his breathing returned to normal. He finally nodded his head and she brushed her thumb gently against his cheek, slowly becoming aware of the situation she had put herself in. Slowly she stood up, smiling gently when he looked up at her, his eyes clouded with passion.

"Christine, I-"

She placed a finger against his lips and shook her head, "Shhh."

His lips turned down slightly and she removed her finger, "How do you intend to get home?"

"I'll walk," she answered, looking out into the dark night.

"It is not safe," he said, getting to his feet a bit unsteadily, "I-I will walk you."

* * *

The walk was oddly fast in the cold night air. Erik remained quiet and Christine didn't know what to say. But the cold felt good against their hot skin and by the time they reached the house Christine was not what to do.

"Will you be alright?" Erik asked, as she stepped into the hallway and hung up her cloak.

Christine responded with a weak smile. Already the quiet of the house seemed daunting, "I-I think so…thank you."

Erik nodded and hung in the doorway, held there by an invisible force. Finally he cleared his throat and opened his mouth to talk. Christine beat him to it.

"Would you like to stay for a minute? I could make some tea, or-"

"I should go," he interrupted, motioning towards the door, "it is late Christine and…I should go. Good night."

Christine quickly reached out and grabbed his hand, "No! Please…stay. I-I want you to stay."

Erik turned slightly to look at her. Every muscle in his body told him to go, to walk out the door. He knew that that was what he should do, but he could not make himself take that step. He couldn't make his hand reach for the door handle and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her face.

"I shouldn't-"

"Please?" she asked, "I-I don't want to be alone…I don't want you to go."

He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, he couldn't bring himself to say no and found that he was nodding his head, "Very well."

* * *

**A/N: I think I re-wrote this like a hundred times, so please review and tell me what you think. I really want to know...really! Umm, that's all, I shall attempt to update soon, as always. Until then review and...umm, review!**


	39. XXXIX

XXXIX

Erik stood in the doorway of her bedroom, watching as she ran a brush through her thick curls. She looked so beautiful in the light pink nightgown, Christine turned her head and gave a small gasp to see him standing there, it brought a blush to his cheeks and he cast his eyes downwards.

"Oh, umm, I guess you need a place to sleep," Christine said.

"The sofa will be fine," he said, "I just…came to say good night."

A small smile flitted across her lips, "Good night, Erik."

He smiled faintly, reaching out to brush a curl off of her shoulder, gently brushing his fingers against her pale skin. He could feel her shudder slightly and drew back his hand, curling the fingers shut and letting his hand rest at his side. Christine smiled and placed her palm gently against his cheek. He clenched his jaw at the touch, before slowly leaning into it. Even after everything the gentle touch was foreign and dangerous.

She stroked his cheek gently, once again tracing his brown and jaw line, running her fingers gently over his lips. They parted slightly at her touch and she lingered there for a moment, watching his reactions. She then moved hr other hand up to the mask, tracing the cool leather edges while cupping his other cheek. Slowly she slipped her fingers under the edge and watched as his eyes snapped open, filled with mistrust and…fear.

"I'm not afraid," she told him, "I just want to see."

"No," he said, drawing away from her touch, "I-I'm not…no!"

She stepped forward and placed her hand on his cheek again, "Please, I promise, nothing bad will happen."

His jaw clenched and she could see the fear behind his eyes. He was trying to fight it and after a few tense moments he nodded his head stiffly, "Fine."

Christine removed it slowly, watching him intently for anything that might indicate she should stop. He just closed his eyes and waited his breathing shallow and fast. She slid it off and placed it on the dressing table.

The shadows of the room played oddly on the marred flesh, making it both harsher and milder in ways. The redness seemed lessened, though the shadows sharpened the over all look of the marred flesh. Gently she reached out and brushed her fingers again it, withdrawing when he flinched.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "does-does it hurt?"

"No," he rasped, "not really…not at all."

She nodded, though he could not see, and brushed her fingers again, marvelling at the strange texture. It almost felt like molten wax to her, and she places her palm against it, feeling that it was warmer than his other cheek, most likely because of the mask rubbing against it.

"Christine, please I-"

She silenced him with a gentle kiss, before moving away and kissing his marred cheek with equal care. His eyes opened slightly and he frowned down at her, confused by her gentle actions. She just smiled in return and placed another gentle kiss on his lips. He returned it this time, though he seemed subdued. She laughed when he continued to stare at her with confusion.

"It doesn't bother me," she said softly, "not anymore…"

"And what of my soul?" he asked, whispering into her ear.

She froze for a moment, considering how she would answer, "I think…that it is beautiful as well."

She gave a small gasp when his hand trailed down her back, sliding down and around to her thigh before drawing back up and being pulled away. When she looked at his face again she could see that his eyes has darkened and was surprised by the closeness of him. She gave a small, nervous smile as he stole a kiss.

"Good night, Christine," he murmured, kissing the palm of her hand before pulling away.

"Wait," she said, not letting go as he moved towards the door, "you-you should' have to sleep on the sofa."

He frowned again, "I do not think-"

"Just to sleep," she said, "just-just to sleep. For one night."

Erik allowed his lips to turn up in a small smirk and nodded his head slowly, "Very well, Christine. Just to sleep."

* * *

It was a strange feeling to wake up with someone else. At first he thought it was s dream and blinked blearily to see if it would go away. But it did not. Instead, as the sleep cleared he became more aware of it. The way her body was pressed against his, the way her hair held a slightly floral scent. The warmth that her body permeated.

She shifted a bit and he pulled away, slowly sitting up and draping his legs over the side of the bed. The wooden floor was cold beneath his feet, and he rubbed his hand over his face, freezing when he found that the mask was missing.

"You're awake?" Christine yawned, causing him to jump, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," he said, pushing himself off the bed and quickly snatching his mask from the dressing table. He put it on quickly before catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His clothes were rumpled from sleep and his hair was in disarray.

"Did you sleep well?" Christine asked, stifling another yawn as she got up, brushing her hair back and out of her face.

"I did," he answered truthfully.

"Mmm, I'm going to get dressed. If you'd like there's a few things to eat in the kitchen."

"Thank you," he said, attempting to organise his appearance, "would you like anything?"

"Bread and jam is fine," she answered.

He nodded and slipped out of the room before she could, allowing her to dress in peace. She smiled and closed the door.

He made her breakfast, but ate nothing himself, settling on a cup of coffee instead. Christine nibbled on the bread while he drank, not knowing what to say. He seemed to have equally little to say.

"When will Madame Giry be returning?" he asked, finishing his coffee.

"I don't know, she didn't really say."

"Then perhaps I should be going," he said, drumming his fingers against the cup, "she would be most displeased if she found me here."

"Oh…I guess she would," Christine laughed.

"Then have a good day, Christine," he said, kissing her palm tenderly, "au revoir."

"Au revoir," she said, following him to the door, "oh, umm…Meg and I dance at the _Variétés. _You should come sometime."

"I would like that," Erik murmured, "au revoir."

* * *

He slipped out the door and onto the streets, quickly moving towards his own house to get changed. He wanted to go out and look at the sites today. He wanted to keep himself busy, and not allow his mind to wander to the previous night. After all, it might have been nothing, and he did not want to risk over thinking it.

"And where have you been?" the maid asked as he strode past her and too his room.

"Out!" he called through the door.

"All night?"

"No, I went out very early this morning and just came back now," he answered, "I thought I'd rise with the sun."

She huffed, "I'm sure, Monsieur. You who would sleep the entire day if it weren't for me coming to wake you."

Erik slipped back out of the room, adorned in fresh clothing, "Perhaps I have turned over a new leaf."

"Humph! Indeed…and you cannot go out without a waistcoat," she said, shaking her head.

Erik rolled his eyes and went back into his room, immerging for a second time doing up a burgundy waistcoat, "Happy?"

"No, I'd be happy if you weren't going out at night," she answered haughtily, "honestly, what men will do!"

Erik rolled his eyes and bit back a smart remark, "I'm going out now, good day, Madame."

"I hope it was a good night!" she called after him; once again he earned the strange look from the neighbour.

"Good morning, Monsieur," he said sharply, before striding off.

* * *

Christine sighed and went back up to her room. She wanted to go out to the market and buy a bit of fresh food for lunch and dinner, so she went up to her room to brush her hair and tie it back. When she was there, however, she found herself opening one of the small drawers of the table, revealing the sapphire ring and the pearl necklace.

She immediately felt a lump rise in her throat, and took them both out, placing the ring on her finger and the necklace around her neck. She couldn't let this go on, not anymore. She had passed a point, and now there was no going back. She could suddenly remember Erik's bitter words from the party.

"You are doing it again, you are toying with the hearts of two men, and I will not be a part of it."

He was right; she was doing just that, toying with their hearts all because she didn't want to hurt them. But it wouldn't work, she accepted Raoul's' ring, because she hadn't wanted to ruin a beautiful evening, and to avoid hurting him. But wouldn't it hurt him more if she led him on? Of course it would, just as it would hurt Erik if she continued to lead him on. A tear escaped from beneath her lashes and she wiped it away hastily, sniffing as she looked at the beautiful sapphire in the ring. She couldn't do it anymore, she had to end it.

With a small sniff she retrieved a small piece of paper and a pen from the table. She paused, the pen poised over the paper as she tried to think of what to say. She finally decided on it and scribbled the note, watching at the ink dried, setting the words permanently in the paper. It had to be done, she told herself, and slipped the note into an envelope, writing the address on the front. It had to be done.

* * *

**A/N: Whoo hoo, chapter up! Now, I think I shall go and flop over dead. I may be a little while with the next update, as I have a screenplay to write for school...and a small biography, and the beginning/as much as I can of a novel. ISUs are upon us! Run in fear! Ooh, please review, for it will make me so happy! Oh yeah, and I'm going to Wicked on Saturday (I needed to share that! Squee!)**


	40. XL

XL

Raoul turned the envelope over in his hand, tapping his fingers nervously against the paper. He didn't know why the note made him so nervously. It was an invitation to have tea, a nice afternoon together. So then why did it make his stomach turn and why had he lost sleep over it the night before. Why was it that a stupid piece of paper could cause so much fear?

"You look terrible," Philippe commented, walking through the parlour and stretching out on the sofa, "what's the matter?"

"Nothing…I'm going out for a couple of hours, tell father?"

"Of course. Have a good time."

"Yes…thank you."

He left the house just after noon. Christine had said between half after and one o'clock, but he couldn't wait any longer, she knew that if he did he would lose his nerve. There was just something about the way she had written the letter. It wasn't like her.

When she answered the door he leaned in to kiss her and she dodged to the side, kissing his cheek gently and in a friendly manner. A small smile flicked on her lips before being snuffed out like a candle. She quickly stepped out of the doorway and motioned towards the parlour.

"Umm, please sit down, I'll just get the tea," she murmured, hurrying off to the kitchen.

Raoul sat down on the sofa, staring into the empty hearth and wringing his hands together, waiting while Christine prepared the tea. He had never seen the house so empty before, usually at least Meg was there.

"Where are the Girys?" he asked as she entered the room.

"Oh, they-they had something to do today."

"And you didn't have work?"

"No, not today," she said, pouring the tea, "you take sugar, right?"

"Yes, thank you."

Christine smiled at his again, the same little flickering smile that tried to hide the sadness in her eyes. Raoul could see her twisting the ring on her finger, around and around, the sapphire glinting when it hit the right light. Watching her twist the ring filled him with a strange dread, and the concern that twisted her lips only worsened the feeling.

"I-I had to talk to you today," she said quietly, her brow furrowed, "and I don't know how to begin, because it isn't easy, Raoul. I don't' suppose anything like this ever is."

"Christine-"

"No! I need to do this, Raoul," she said, twisting the ring off her finger and clasping it in her palm, "I-I can't accept this."

Raoul held his hand out and she placed the ring in his hand, "I don't-"

"Too much has changed, Raoul, I'm not the same person as I was in the opera…I can't marry you, Raoul, I think we both knew that, but we didn't want to get hurt…this is better, though. If we had kept this up nothing good would have come of it. You are such a dear friend to me, Raoul."

"But nothing more," he said, bitterness tinting his voice.

"I do love you, I always will. You'll always be the little boy I spent the summer with by the sea. The wonderful friend who did so much to me, I'm so sorry," she said, wiping at the tears the threatened to spill from her eyes.

"So am I," he murmured, "are you certain, Christine? Maybe if we just gave it time."

"I'm positive," she sniffed, "you'll find someone else, Raoul. Someone who truly deserves your love."

"I'll always love you, though. You will be the only person I'll ever truly love, Christine!"

"No I won't," she assured him, smiling through the tears, "you-you'll want the necklace back to. I'll just-"

"No, keep it," he said, "It was a gift, Christine, just for you."

She nodded and sniffed quietly. There was nothing more to say, she had done what she had intended and felt terrible for it. He was turning the ring over in his hand and gently picked it up with his thumb and forefinger, holding it up to look at it, a sad smile twisting his lips.

"He still has it, doesn't he?"

"What?" she asked, looking up to see him holding the ring.

"The first ring…he still has it, doesn't he?"

She nodded slowly, surprised that there was no bitterness in his voice as he spoke of it. He just made a thoughtful sound in his throat and slid the ring into his pocket, his eyes bright with tears.

"I should go then," he said, "good bye, Christine. I-I hope to see you again."

She nodded her head and followed him to the front door, "Good bye, Raoul…I really am sorry."

"So am I," he murmured, brushing his fingers against her cheek, "but maybe you're right, we couldn't have gone on this way. Good bye."

* * *

Erik flipped the page of the book, scanning the words before him with nearly unmatched speed. He had spent the greater part of the evening reading, unsure of what else to do. The maid had suggested going out, but he had no where to go. Besides, he had spent the whole day out in the city, inspecting work sites and listening to the usual trouble that the workers were facing.

A knock at the door jerked him from the book and he considered ignoring it, but a second, louder knock drew him out of the chair and towards the door. He opened it to Charles standing on the porch, hand raised as if to knock again. Erik glanced past him to the carriage waiting on the street.

"What are you doing here, Armand? And if you tell me that you were in the area I will be forced to throw you down the steps."

Actually," he gave a small chuckle, "we were, more or less, in the area. You see, Danielle and I were in the city for the night. We went to see a play this afternoon and stayed in the city for supper. We were just about to go to the Bois for a walk when Danielle had the brilliant idea of seeing if you were in."

"Brilliant," Erik repeated, "and?"

"Would you like to join us?" Charles asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Perhaps it was, he didn't really know.

"To walk in the Bois, at night, when it is cold?" Erik asked, watching as Charles seemed to deflate in front of him.

"Well, yes. I mean, it isn't all that cold. Danielle would really like it if you would join us."

Erik stood silent for a moment, enjoying the way Charles seemed to squirm beneath his gaze. He then gave a curt nod of his head, "I suppose I have nothing else to do."

"So you'll join us, Sabina?" Charles beamed.

"I might as well. You will need some sort of protection, after all. It is not safe to walk alone at night."

Charles rolled his eyes as Erik donned his old cloak, "And it will be much safer with you, right?"

"Of course. I can see in the dark. Like a cat, I suppose."

"A very large, temperamental cat," Charles muttered, "oh well, Danielle will be thrilled."

Erik snorted and followed him out to the waiting carriage, climbing in before him and sitting opposite Danielle. She smiled brightly at him.

"So my husband convinced you?" she asked, "I'm glad, we haven't seen you in so long, Monsieur Sabina."

"It is a pleasure to see you again," he said, giving a small nod, "have you been well?

"Very well, and you?" she asked as Charles climbed in.

"Hmm, yes, I suppose I have been well," he shrugged, "I mean, I have not been unwell."

Charles raised an eyebrow, "I see. Good to hear."

Erik shrugged his shoulders and looked out the window at the lights and shapes that flitted by as the carriage continued forward. Danielle leaned her head against Charles shoulder and smiled, quietly enjoying the ride.

"So, have you been keeping busy, Sabina?" Charles asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yes, I have," he replied.

"I hope you aren't working yourself too hard," Danielle worried.

"Never," Erik said, "I only work as much as I want to. Once I am tired or bored I go home."

"And what do you do there?" Charles asked.

"I work on other things," Erik answered, "or I read."

"Do you ever have any fun, Sabina?" Charles asked, "Do you go out to the theatre at all? Go out for the night or anything?"

Erik gave him a quizzical look, "And who, pray tell, would I do these things with, Armand?"

"I don't know, you could find someone. We would go to the theatre with you, wouldn't we?"

"Of course," Danielle said, smiling at him.

"I am not particularly fond of the theatre," Erik murmured.

"But why not?" Danielle asked, "There are so many good stories, and the music and the dancing are amazing."

"She has become quite the lover of the theatre," Charles laughed, kissing her cheek.

"Hmm, I will admit that much of the music is wonderful, though for the most part poorly played and the dancing can be well done. The stories can be amusing as well. They are usually quite outrageous, would you not agree?" Erik asked.

"You know about the theatre then," Danielle said, thrilled by that fact.

"I know a few things," Erik said, "I told you that I did not like it, not that I have never been…I used to spend an incredible amount of time at the opera, actually."

"Really?" Danielle asked.

"Yes, I used to love it."

"How delightful, why did you stop going?"

"It was nothing, really," he said, shifting in the seat, "a set of events that ended badly, I suppose. But that is the past…"

The rest of the ride was fairly quiet. Danielle rested her head lightly on Charles' shoulder and dozed a bit before the reached the Bois. When the carriage rattled to a stop she got up and Charles opened the door and climbed out, holding it for Erik and Danielle as they got out. He then instructed the driver to wait there for them.

"Its so beautiful out at night," Danielle mused, looping her arms through Charles' arm, "You can even see the stars tonight, it isn't too cloudy."

"Yes you can," Charles said, looking up, "they're beautiful, just like you."

Erik cast his eyes away awkwardly as Charles stole as kiss and looked up at the stars sparkling in the blue-black sky. They really were beautiful, but nothing compared the view he had had on the roof of the _Opera Populaire. _That had been a truly spectacular view.

"Are you going to stand there all night, Sabina?" Charles teased as he and Danielle began to walk, "you'll get terribly cold."

"I wouldn't be cold if you hadn't dragged me out here," Erik retorted.

"I hardly dragged you," Charles muttered, "come on; don't get all moody on us now. It's too nice a night."

Erik rolled his eyes and caught up with them in three easy strides. It really was a nice night, despite the chill in the air, and he was actually glad for their company. He was tired of sitting alone in the house, as much as he hated to admit it.

"I remember walking with my mother and father on nights like this," Danielle mused after a few minutes, "my papa would put me on his shoulders and we'd all walk together."

"That sounds lovely," Erik murmured, "I used to look at the stars from my bedroom window…"

"Did you have a good view?"

"It was the attic window, in a house at the edge of town, if my memory serves me. So yes, I suppose it was a lovely view, I quite liked it at the time."

"Have you ever been back to the house?"

Erik's eyes darkened and he gave a harsh laugh, "No, and I do not plan on going back. Not unless I can burn that stupid house to the ground."

"Oh!" Danielle gasped, "Why would you want to do that?"

"To amuse myself," Erik answered sardonically, "don't you think it would be amusing? I used to tell my mother that I could make it disappear…I told her that I could make anything disappear if I wanted to. Oh how it frightened her!"

"Why would you tell her that?" Danielle asked a hint of worry in her voice from the way he spoke.

"Because I was upset," he shrugged, "and because I liked to frighten her. She was very easy to frighten at times, it was quite useful when I wanted to have something."

"Well I think it's terrible to frighten people," Danielle said quietly.

"I could not agree more," Erik agreed, "I am not always proud of my actions in the past…but I could have done it."

"Done what?" Charles asked, frowning slightly.

"Made the house disappear," Erik stated.

"How?" Charles asked.

"With magic!" Erik said, his eyes twinkling mysteriously, "I know a lot of magic."

"There's no such thing as magic," Charles said sternly.

"Oh but there is!" Erik exclaimed, grinning mischievously, "and I know it. My magic is better than anyone else's."

"I'm sure," Charles said, rolling his eyes.

"What sort of magic?" Danielle asked, playing along.

"Everything," Erik shrugged, "I know many tricks. But my greatest talent is to make things disappear."

On the last word he picked up the side of his cloak and wrapped it around himself, turning as the thick material engulfed him and then fluttered to the ground. Danielle's eyes widened slightly when she saw that he wasn't there.

"Very funny, Sabina," Charles said sarcastically, "come on, come out!"

"That would ruin the fun," Erik's voice drifted to them.

"Where are you?" Charles asked, turning towards the source of the voice.

"Oh no," his voice came from the other direction, "not there, try again."

"Sabina, this is not funny."

"Oh but it is," Erik chuckled, "can you find Erik? Up, down, left or right? Oh no, you are very cold!"

Charles spun around while Danielle laughed, "Sabina!"

"You're getting warmer," the voice teased, "oh, wait…no, not over there. It's hard to see in the dark, isn't it?"

"Sabina," Charles groaned, "you are acting very childish."

Erik laughed, the sound echoing from all sides, "You only say that because you cannot find me…let me give you a hint."

Charles jumped when two of Erik's fingers came down hard on his shoulders. He scowled at him while Danielle laughed at him. Erik just smirked, sweeping his cloak off of the ground and dusting it off.

"That was amazing," Danielle said, "how did you do that?"

"Magic," Erik answered.

"There is no such thing," Charles said, "You were throwing your voice. And in all that black you'd be impossible to spot in the dark."

Erik snorted, "You ruin all the fun, Armand. It was magic. You are just sore because I made a fool of you."

Danielle laughed again, gently touching her husband's arm, "Come on, let's finish our walk. That was a very impressive trick, Monsieur Sabina, do you know any others?"

"A multitude," Erik said," perhaps I will show them to you some time."

"I'd like that," Danielle smiled.

"Just don't make anything of value disappear," Charles muttered.

"I would never dream of," Erik replied.

Danielle smiled and kissed Charles cheek as they continued their walk, quietly enjoying the night. Erik began to feel more uncomfortable as they went along. Danielle and Charles walked arm in arm, their heads leaned together lovingly as they enjoyed an evening together. He wondered if he would ever have anything as special as that, and his mind wandered to the night with Christine. He suddenly felt very out of place and slowly fell back. It wasn't until he had stopped that Danielle noticed, turning back to look at him with faint concern.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, nothing at all," he said.

"You've been awfully quiet," she continued, "are you sure?"

"I have just been thinking," Erik sighed.

"Maybe we should head back," Charles suggested, "it's getting colder, and we should get home."

"Alright," Danielle murmured, "Monsieur Sabina, you should walk with us this time."

"Very well," he muttered, falling into step beside them.

The walk back was slow, but Danielle and Charles managed to keep up a quiet conversation. One that revolved around their plans for the future. Charles wanted to build a new house somewhere, but hadn't decided the location. Erik listened quietly as he went on, speaking of a nice place to get away to for the summers.

"There are many lovely places," Erik murmured as they approached the carriage.

"That's the problem," Charles said, "There are too many beautiful places to have a house. But when I do finally decide, would you do me the honours of designing it? I'd love to see what you could do with nothing but a plot of land."

"I will see," Erik said, "it will depend on my schedule at the time."

"Of course, I understand," Charles nodded.

They were by the carriage when another one came clattering towards them. When it was just past them it stopped with a clatter of hooves and the snort of the horse. Erik and Charles turned as the door opened and a man stumbled out, motioning for someone inside to follow him. A small smile graced Charles' lips and he shook his head.

"Good evening!" the other man said enthusiastically.

"Philippe," Charles said, shaking his head, "my good man, what are you doing out on this chill night?"

"I could as you the same thing," Philippe answered, jabbing his index finger towards Charles.

"I'm out for a walk with my wife and a friend…you are drunk," he said.

A smile flashed across Philippe's features, "Just a little, actually. I had to take my dear brother out tonight; he was feeling a bit down, so I decided to cheer him up the best way that I knew how."

"Of course that would be getting him drunk," Charles said, shaking his head.

"Philippe, can we go now?" Raoul asked, leaning against the carriage dejectedly, "oh, good evening, Charles, Danielle."

"You're doing a splendid job cheering him up," Charles said sarcastically.

"Hmm, yes, he is being difficult."

"Philippe!" Raoul persisted, "I told you that I did not want to come, and you dragged me along, could we please go home now? I've had enough and you've certainly had enough."

Raoul strode forward and grabbed his brother's arm. Philippe sighed dramatically and shook his head, "No fun at all, that's what you are, my dear brother."

"What has you so down?" Danielle asked pleasantly.

"He's have girl troubles," Philippe blurted out.

"Girl troubles?" Charles asked, frowning, "what do you mean?"

"He doesn't mean anything!" Raoul said, exasperated by his brother.

"Then what's wrong?" Danielle asked.

"It's just…" he trailed off as he caught sight of Erik standing just in the shadows and scowled, "you…it was your fault!"

Erik barely registered what happened. Within seconds Raoul had moved towards him and driven his fist into his face with enough force to knock him backwards and nearly dislodge his mask. Erik stumbled and fell down, hitting the ground with a dull thud He gave a small grunt and moved to leap up, ready to strike the boy back, but stopped himself and settled for a chilling glare.

"Raoul!" Philippe and Charles exclaimed.

"It serves him right," Raoul spat bitterly, moving forwards.

Charles reached out and placed a hand firmly on Raoul's chest, holding him back, "Stop this!"

"Are you happy now?" Raoul asked, returning Erik's glare with a scowl, "Are you, Phantom?"

Erik barely suppressed a snarl and clenched his fists to gain control. He wouldn't react to the boy's bitter words. They were just that, after all, just words meant to scorn because he was hurt. Besides, he couldn't say that he was happy. He had known the pain of rejection, had watched the woman he loved go off with the man she had chosen. That was half the reason that he kept himself on the ground, because he knew the pain that the boy was feeling.

"Come on," Philippe said, grabbing his brother's arm firmly, "let's get going, I guess you have had enough."

Raoul threw off his arm with a small snort and strode back towards the carriage. Philippe gave a weak smile and shrugged.

"Just get him home," Charles muttered.

"I'm sorry," Philippe murmured, glancing down at Erik, "I apologize for my brother."

"Just go!" Erik snarled, climbing to his feet.

"Right, have a pleasant evening," he said, jogging over to the carriage and climbing in, slamming the door shut behind him.

"I didn't think that whelp had it in him," Erik said sardonically, "he's stronger than he looks."

"Are you hurt?" Danielle asked, immediately become at tentative.

"Its nothing," Erik murmured, trying to get away from her as she attempted to see the damage done in the dark.

"No, you're bleeding," she said, managing to get a look as he tried to avoid her.

Erik sighed and touched his hand gingerly to his nose. Sure enough blood was dripping from it, "Damn it!"

"Come on," Charles said, "let's get back to Sabina's house. The bleeding will probably stop on the way.

Unfortunately it hadn't stopped by the time they reached his house, and Erik found himself constantly wiping blood away from his nose. Because of that Danielle insisted on looking at it, just to ensure that he was fine. Erik didn't even bother arguing, he knew that he wouldn't win in the end. So he led her into the parlour and let Charles turn up the lamps to light it.

"Oh, its bleeding a lot," Danielle said worriedly, "sit down, I'll see if I can find a cloth."

"In the closet down the hall," Erik informed her, sitting down on the wooden desk chair.

While she was gone he gently touched his nose and felt down to his lip to find what damage had been down. It wasn't bad. Just a bloody nose and a split lip. He knew there would be bruising, but nothing more.

"Here," Danielle said, dabbing a cloth against his nose, "oh, your lip!"

"It fine," Erik said, wincing as she touched his face.

"I'm sorry, that hurt, didn't it?"

"No," he murmured, "its fine."

"I've never seen Raoul so angry," Charles said thoughtfully, "what was he talking about, Sabina?"

"How should I know?" Erik growled.

"Well he seemed to be upset about something, and since he blamed you I would assume that you know something."

"I know nothing," Erik said. It wasn't a complete lie. He had theories, but could not be sure of them.

"Charles, please," Danielle sighed, dabbing at the blood again before leaving and coming back with the cloth dampened.

"You don't have to do this," Erik grumbled as she wiped away the blood.

"I know," she said sweetly, "but I want to…oh, it's going to swell."

"Yes it will, and it will bruise, but it is nothing permanent. You worry too much, Madame."

"She sighed and finished wiping away the blood, squinting at his face and noticing a cut that started on the bridge of his nose and disappeared under the mask. Carefully she wiped it, causing Erik to jump.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but there's a cut…it would be easier to clean if you took off that mask."

"No," Erik said coldly, "just leave it, I'll deal with it later!"

"Its better to clean it out now," Danielle said gently, "you don't want it to get infected."

"It will be fine," Erik replied, touching the mask lightly, "that stupid boy! He almost knocked it off."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Danielle asked, suddenly serious.

"Oh yes, it is a terrible thing," Erik answered bitterly.

"It can't be that bad," Charles sighed, going over to the desk and flipping through the papers.

"It is," Erik insisted, "I'll deal with it later, thank you, Madame."

She nodded and wiped the remaining blood from under his nose, biting her lip as he flinched and his hand jerked towards her wrist.

"This is a lovely sketch, Sabina," Charles said, lifting a picture of a house from the pile and looking down at the floor plans beneath it, "but I thought you weren't designing for anyone right now."

"It isn't for anyone," Erik said, glancing at the page.

"What do you mean?" Danielle asked.

"I mean that I was not hired to design it," Erik replied.

"Oh, were you designing it for yourself?" Danielle asked, a small smile flitting across her lips.

"Perhaps…I have not decided what I wish to do with it yet."

"Well it's ingenious; whoever ends up with it will be a very happy man."

"Indeed," Erik muttered, "I'm glad you like it…if you wish to stay for awhile I can make some tea."

"No, we should actually be going," Charles said, "it's late, and we must be getting home. I'm glad you came with us, Sabina, and I hope that no damage has been done."

"Only my pride had been severely wounded," Erik jested, "good night."

Once they were gone he gingerly removed the mask and felt the cut. It was small, just over the bridge of his nose and barely bleeding. With a sigh he replaced the mask and dimmed the lights. The boy certainly had been angry, and he could only think of one reason for that, though he tried to avoid the though. After all, even if she did leave the boy, that didn't mean that she would run back to him.

* * *

**A/N: Happy first of december, I have an update! Ha, yeah, I hope there aren't too many mistakes, but I've been insanely busy and haven't had a lot of time to edit. But I am done my screenplay (finally!), five to nine hours a night for a week did it. So please review, I need it. Oh, and I've been trying to think of some sort of thing to do/write for christmas, so if you've got any ideas let me know. I'm going to go sleep now, since I havent' all week...Review!**


	41. Part Five

Part Five

XLI

Christine sighed as she and Meg quickly got changed. Pulling off their costumes and shoving the thin gauze skirts into their satchels. Meg had stuck several hairpins into her mouth as she removed her shoes and tossed them into the bag along with her other belongings.

"That was a fairly good performance," Christine said, tying her hair back and out of her face.

"Uh-huh," Meg agreed, removing the pins from her mouth and using them to do up her hair, "Maria was really good."

"Yeah," Christine agreed, "her solo was really great."

"Yeah…you know we're doing an opera soon," Meg said, faking innocence."

"Yes, I know. Everyone knows, Meg," Christine answered, slipping on her shoes, "come one, we should get going. It'll be getting dark soon."

"Well, they haven't chosen the lead signer yet," Meg continued, hurrying after her friend, "we don't' have a really good soprano here…at least not one that they know of."

Christine gave a small sigh and shook her head, "I can't sign anymore, Meg."

"Of course you can! You might be a bit out of practice, but that doesn't mean that you can't sing. You have such a beautiful voice!" Meg exclaimed, grasping her hands and looking into her eyes.

"That's not what I meant," Christine said, looking away, "I mean I can't sing, no one would want me, not after everything that happened."

"That's foolish!" Meg snorted, "of course they would. Anyone would want someone with your talent!"

"Not with all the scandal that surrounds it," Christine sighed, "its fine though, I like dancing. It's a good way to make a living."

"You might like dancing, but you love singing," Meg insisted, "you should be able to do what you love, Christine."

Christine just smiled and shook her head, "Come on, we still have to find a cab, unless you want to walk."

"Ugh, no," Meg said, accepting the change of subject, "I don't think I'd be able to do it."

Christine gave a small laugh and started towards the exit, "Then hurry up!"

They exited into the cold night air, somehow managing to force their way through the people milling in the front of the theatre and hailed a cab. Christine let out a small sigh of relief as they entered the warmth of the carriage; Meg sat down opposite her and did the same. It was always difficult to find a way home after performances; there were always so many people.

"That was lucky," Meg laughed, "I thought that we'd have to walk."

"Madame hated it when we walk home after dark," Christine murmured.

"I know," Meg said, "usually Raoul gives us a ride, but he wasn't here tonight, was he?"

"No," Christine said, staring at her hands. She hadn't told Meg or Madame about what she had done yet.

"Was he busy?" Meg asked, "He usually doesn't miss your performances."

"N-no, he just couldn't come."

"Is something wrong?" Meg asked, hearing the slightest sniffle, "Christine?"

"No," she answered, glad for the darkness in the carriage to hide the tears in her eyes, "it's just…we-we're not together anymore, Meg."

"What?" Meg asked, putting a hand over her mouth, "oh, Christine, I'm sorry, I didn't know. What happened? Did you have a fight?"

"No, it was nothing like that…we just, grew apart, I guess," Christine shrugged.

"I'm so sorry, Christine. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she answered, "I was actually the one who broke of the engagement. I just couldn't go through with it, not when…"

"Not when what?" Meg asked.

"Not when I don't love him…not when I'm in love with someone else."

Christine could see the confusion on Meg's face even in the darkness. She could see the way her brow puckered slightly as she tried to grasp what she meant by that, "Who, Christine?"

"Never mind," Christine said quietly, as the carriage jerked to a stop, "it's just-never mind. It's really just because I don't' love Raoul in that way. He's more of a dear friend, or a brother…come on, lets get inside."

Christine quickly climbed out of the cab and paid the driver, before hurrying into the house. Meg trailed her closely, however, and she wasn't about to let her get away with that.

"Who, Christine?" she demanded, "I want to know. Do I know him?"

"Never mind, Meg," she repeated, "please, it was a foolish thing to say. I-I'm just tired. We should get to bed."

"Christine!" Meg huffed, "why won't you tell me?"

"Just...I'll tell you…just not now. I'm not ready yet. I'm not even completely sure of things myself," she sighed, "good night, Meg."

Before her friend could argue, Christine hurried to her room and closed the door, grateful when Meg didn't knock on it. She knew that she'd have to work everything out eventually and the sooner the better. But she couldn't tell Meg, not yet. She wanted to talk to Antoinette first, to see what she thought and then, if she could find the courage, she would talk to Erik again. And, hopefully, everything would go well.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, short chapter and long time between updates, sorry about that. I've been working like crazy on a history project... and another story (shifty eyes). So yeah, if my brain doesn't explode from information overload I'll try my hardest to update soon. Maybe even get somewhere with the story. Yeah...also still thinking of ideas for Christmas, like maybe a one shot or something. Give me ideas if you have any and review pretty please.**


	42. XLII

XLII

Erik rested his chin in his hand and sighed, the air making a strange whistling noise as it left his nose. He glanced at the watch that sat open on his desk and frowned. Time had a strange way of slipping by without his noticing, especially when the maid didn't come.

With a small groan he stood up, picking up a small note as he did so. He idly flipped it over in his hand, rereading it as he found his jacket. An invite for tea at the Armand estate.

It was a cold day, and the ride out of the city and to the house seemed oddly long. Erik regretted not wearing a coat by the time he made it up to the house, normally the cold didn't bother him so much, but the wind was icy and biting, cutting through the material of his jacket straight through to his bones.

He allowed his horse to be led away to the stable and quickly knocked on the front door, glad when the manservant opened it and allowed him in.

"If you will follow me, sir," he said, "you are expected in the parlour."

Erik nodded and followed him to the parlour, where Danielle was sitting with a tray of tea things on the table in front of her. She smiled at him and stood when he entered.

"Thank you," she said to the manservant.

He gave a small bow, "You are welcome, Madame."

Erik watched as he exited and gave a small smile, "Good afternoon, Madame."

She smiled and kissed his cheek, "You seem well, Monsieur Sabina."

He nodded his head, "I am…where is your husband?"

"Charles is out today," she said, taking her seat and motioning for him to do the same, "I was the one who invited you."

"I see," Erik said.

"I wanted to make sure that you were alright after the other night," she said, "I was a bit worried after everything, but I can see you're fine."

"Yes, no permanent damage," he nodded.

She gave a small smile and poured them each a cup of tea, "I'm glad. The vicomte isn't usually such an aggressive person; it was quite strange for him to behave so rashly. I can't imagine what would make him hit you."

Erik gave a small smile, "No?"

"Of course not!"

He gave a small chuckle, "Surely you did not invite me all the way out here simply to check on my health."

"You are so suspicious," she sighed, "but you are right, I suppose. Though my reasons do relate to that night."

"How so?"

"You just seemed…a bit quiet, I guess. I know that you said everything was alright, but was it? You seemed kind of sad."

"You have a kind heart to care so much about others," Erik murmured, sipping his tea, "but I would not say that I was sad. Truthfully I just felt a bit out of place."

Danielle blushed slightly, "Oh, if we made you feel uncomfortable I'm sorry."

"I did not say uncomfortable," he corrected her, "you two love each other very much, and that is a good thing…"

"Have you ever been in love?" Danielle asked gently.

"What would make you think that?" he asked, staring at his teacup.

"You are easier to read than you might think," she said, laughing gently, "It's just the way you act sometimes…what happened?"

"Many things," he replied quietly.

"That's a shame," she said.

"Well," he said, offering a weak smile, "They say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Perhaps there is truth to that, hmm?"

"Maybe," she said, "but I don't think I would be able to stand losing Charles.

"It is very difficult," Erik murmured.

Danielle reached out and touched his hand gently, "I have been meaning to ask you if you would care to join us for Christmas dinner. Charles mentioned it the other day. So, would you?"

"I am not sure," Erik shrugged, "I have already had another invitation."

"Oh, well then you should go there," Danielle said, "it would only be right."

"Unfortunately the invitation is from a family who live a fair distance from the city, so the weather may not permit me to go. I will send notice as soon as I know, however."

"Oh, that isn't necessary," Danielle assure him, "just come if you can, it will be around eight o'clock."

"Thank you, I will keep it in mind, I assure you. Now, I'm afraid I should be leaving, the weather was turning when I came up."

"Oh of course!" Danielle gasped, "It sounded quite windy. I'll send for your horse."

"Merci, Madame," he said, placing his teacup back on the table as she called for a servant.

"I hope you don't get too cold," she said.

"I will be fine," Erik assured her, "thank you for the tea, Madame."

"Of course," she said, "I'm glad you chose to come."

Erik gave a small bow and opened the door, catching a cold gust of wind, "Au revoir, Madame Armand."

Danielle bit her lip and gave a small wave, "Be careful!"

* * *

"Its so cold out," Christine shivered, wrapping her hands around a cup of hot chocolate, "thank you, Madame." 

"Think nothing of it," Antoinette answered, "we cannot have you getting sick."

Christine smiled weakly and sipped the warm drink, "Mmm, this is good."

"You said you wanted to talk?" Antoinette asked.

Christine nodded, glancing out the window as the wind whipped little snowflakes through the air, and "I wanted to ask you a few things…about Erik."

Antoinette nodded slowly, "What do you want to know?"

"How do you know him?" Christine asked, "I mean-"

"Non, I know what you mean," Antoinette said, "well, it is a bit of a long story, how we met…it was at a gypsy fair, and he was…an exhibit, I suppose. The Devil's Child is what they called him, and he was kept in a cage and beaten…I saved him from there, to make a long story short, and took him to the opera house. But we were very young, I was only sixteen, and he was perhaps ten, twelve at the oldest…I did not know what to do with him, but he found his own way in the theatre. I tried to visit him as often as I could, but as time passed he became more confident in the secret tunnels and I fell in love…I suppose you could say we were friends."

"Oh…do you know anything else about him?" Christine asked.

"Not much, he was very secretive and spoke little of his past. As time passed we grew apart, for he did not need me as he did at the beginning. By the end we did not speak…there are certain things though. He always loved music, and to read and learn…and the snow. He asked me every year around this time if it had snowed. He loved to watch it snow from the roof of the opera house. I do not know why, but he did."

"He used to ask me as well…when he gave me lessons," Christine murmured.

"Oui…and he had a temper, that I remember well, as most residents of the theatre most likely do," Antoinette sighed, "when he was young he angered very easily, and often scared me. Though I think he has gotten better with that, from what I have heard."

"Anything else?" Christine asked.

"I cannot think of much else. As I said, he rarely spoke of himself…why do you want to know these things?"

"I guess…I never really knew him," Christine said, staring into her hot chocolate, "I just wanted to know more about him. What he likes…that sort of thing."

"I see," Antoinette said.

"I-I also want to know…what you think of him," Christine asked, chewing on her lower lip.

"I think that he is a good man with the potential to be great," Antoinette answered truthfully, "he has a good heart and a brilliant mind…but he does not trust people, and he needs to learn to do that."

"Do you think he could learn?" Christine asked, glancing up at her hopefully.

"I think that it would take some work," Antoinette answered truthfully, "why?"

"I want him to be able to trust people…to trust me," she said softly, "I-I love him, I think. No. I know."

Antoinette nodded her head slowly, "You have to be careful, Christine. He has lost so much already, I do not think-"

"I broke off my engagement to Raoul," Christine interrupted, "I didn't want to lead him on…I didn't want to hurt him. I don't want to hurt either of them, but I don't know what to do."

"Be careful," Antoinette said seriously, "try talking, invite him to go out for dinner. Take it slowly. If this is what you want, then you have to let him know that he can trust you."

"I will," Christine said, nodding her head, "it's what I want…it really is."

Antoinette sighed, "He loved you very much. I know that. But keep in mind all that happened."

Christine nodded again, "I know. I've thought about it. A lot…this is what I want…it's what I want. Thank you."

Antoinette nodded and touched her arm gently, "I am glad you talked to me. And, if anything ever goes wrong, remember: you can always come to me. I will not be angry or upset."

Christine nodded her head and finished her hot chocolate, "Mmm hmm."

"Christine!" Meg exclaimed, rushing into the parlour, "look, it's the first snow of the year!"

"Yeah, it is," Christine laughed.

"Remember when we used to check everyday after practise?"

"Yeah," Christine agreed, looking out the window.

"Come on," Meg said, grabbing her hand, "let's go outside."

Christine laughed, "Alright, I'll be right there."

Meg nodded and rushed outside; Christine turned back to Antoinette and gave a small smile, "The first snow."

"Oui, go on, enjoy it with Meg."

"He would have liked this," Christine murmured, "wouldn't he?"

"I am sure he is watching it now," Antoinette said, "go on."

Christine smiled and followed her friend out into the snow, where she was catching snowflakes on her tongue. She quickly joined her, laughing as she stuck out her tongue to catch the fat, wet flakes.

* * *

**A/N: Ummm...please review...hopefully I'll update at some point during the week, but it's almost Christmas, so time might be short. So yeah, sorry for the sparse updates lately.**


	43. XLIII

XLIII

Erik watched the snow fall from the overhang of a shop. Behind him diamonds rings and broaches glittered in the window, attracting passing couples preparing for the holiday season. Erik watched them come and go, waiting for the snow to let up before venturing out again.

He was just about to leave, as another young couple leaned in to look through the window, when he heard his name being called. He frowned slightly, not recognising the voice at first, but when he turned to see who was calling he immediately recognised the person running towards him.

Smiling broadly, with her blonde hair windswept and filled with flakes, Fleur ran over to him, arms open. Erik quickly leaned down to catch her as she skidded into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Erik!" she giggled, as he lifted her up, "I knew it was you, I told Richard so."

"Richard?" Erik asked.

"Uh-huh, he brought me with him to shop!" she said, nodding her head.

"Aren't you lucky?" Erik chuckled.

"Yup…oh, I almost forgot about you!" she gasped, "I still need to get you a gift for Christmas."

"That is quite alright," Erik said, "I do not need a gift."

"Of course you do," Fleur whined, poking his nose.

Erik just smiled, spotting Richard hurrying towards them, toting several bags and parcels. The man gave a smile and visible sigh when he spotted Erik with Fleur and slowed down a bit. Erik gave a small wave.

"Fleur," he sighed, "you can't just run off like that."

"I told you I was going to see Erik," she pouted.

"Just don't do it again," Richard sighed.

"Fine," she sighed.

Erik gave a small laugh and put her down, "It is good to see you again, Monsieur. I see that you have been busy."

"Yes, quite," he sighed, "and you? What have you been doing?"

"Working," Erik answered, "for the final day of the year I think. The weather is, unfortunately, too bad for the masons. Not that I can blame them, it would be most unfortunate to have one fall off of the scaffolding."

"Right, architecture," Richard sighed, "yes, it would definitely be a bad thing."

Erik nodded, "Indeed. I was just heading home, actually."

"Richard," Fleur said, tugging on his pant leg, "look at all the pretty rings! You said you wanted to look at them."

Erik smirked as Richard blushed slightly, "Ah, for Colette?"

"Uh-huh!" Fleur said, nodding her head, "but it's a secret, so you can't tell her."

"I wouldn't dare," Erik said, "so, what sort of ring are you looking for?"

"Something that I can afford," Richard said awkwardly, "but still suitable."

Erik nodded his head and turned to look in the window, "How about that one?"

Fleur peered through the window at the one Erik was pointing to. It was simple, a golden band inlayed with a single diamond.

"It's lovely," Richard said, "simple, but still beautiful."

"I think maman would like it," Fleur said, bobbing up and down on her toes.

"Yes, I think she would," Richard agreed.

"Oh, and then we have to go get a gift for Erik!" Fleur said, turning towards him.

"Of course," Richard sighed, still staring through the glass at the wing.

Erik smirked and watched as Richard nervously watched the ring through the glass. Slowly he leaned in to look at it as well and whispered, "It will not come out here for you."

"Oh!" Richard jumped, "no, I guess it won't."

"Well then," Erik motioned towards the door, "why don't you go in and ask about it? I can keep an eye on Fleur for you. We can go to the café for some hot chocolate."

"Yay! Can we, Richard?"

"I suppose so," he muttered, "very well, go one…I'll…yes."

Erik nodded and watched as Richard went into the store before walking with Fleur to the small café down the street. There he found them a seat and ordered her a hot chocolate and a coffee for himself. Fleur was absolutely thrilled to be there, and especially loved the whipped cream on top of the hot beverage.

"I like Paris," she decided, "it's really nice, and there are so many peoples."

"Yes, there are a lot of people," Erik agreed.

"And the carriages are everywhere, and they're pretty too."

"Yes, many carriages."

"And there are so many stores and stuff!"

"Yes, lots and lots of stores."

"Thank you for the drink, Erik," she said, dipping her finger in the whipped cream.

"Be careful, it will be very hot," Erik warned.

"I know. Maman makes me hot chocolate all the time. I burned my tongue once, it really hurt."

"Yes, I suspect it would."

"Are you comin' for Christmas?" Fleur asked, blowing on her drink.

"I do not know, I have been invited somewhere else for Christmas dinner," Erik said.

"Oh…but how will you get your gift?" Fleur asked.

"I do not know," Erik said thoughtfully.

"Maybe you could come in the morning and then come back here for dinner with your friends!" Fleur suggested.

Erik laughed, "Yes, maybe I could. But that would be a lot of travelling."

"Well…then come for Christmas eve also. We always go to church for the pretty service and then go back home and open one gift each."

"Maybe I could do that."

"Uh-huh…so…what did you get me?"

Erik raised his eyebrow and shook his head, "If I told you then it wouldn't be a surprise."

"I could pretend," Fleur said.

"Oh, could you now?" Erik chuckled, "well then…no."

Fleur pouted, "Meany."

"Oh, I know. I am a terrible person," Erik sighed.

Fleur giggled, "So you'll tell me?"

"No," he repeated, "you will find out when I give it to you."

Fleur sighed dramatically, reminding him of the young ballet rats in the opera. They had always been rather dramatic, especially young Meg. Fleur actually looked a bit like Meg with her blonde hair and blue eyes. He would have to purchase a gift for her, along with a few others. He wasn't used to shopping for people though, and figured that he wouldn't find it at all enjoyable.

"There you are," Richard said, sitting down beside Fleur.

"Would you like a drink" Erik asked.

"No, we should be going, actually. We still have to get back home, don't we?"

"Yeah," Fleur sighed, "maman will want us home for supper…"

"It was good to see you again, Monsieur," Richard said, reaching out to shake Erik's hand.

Erik shook his hand a bit reluctantly, "Yes, it was good to see you as well."

"I hope you come for Christmas," Richard said with a small smile, "it should be a fun day."

"He's gonna come for Christmas Eve," Fleur told him.

"Hopefully," Erik corrected.

"Bye, Erik!" Fleur said, scooting off the chair and going towards the door.

Erik gave a small wave and finished his coffee as they left. He then quickly paid and went back outside. Perhaps he would be able to purchase a few things before he got home.

* * *

Christine handed Antoinette a Christmas ball and watched as she hung it on the tree. Meg was on the other side, hanging other ornaments on the tree.

"What is the problem then?" Antoinette asked, accepting another ornament from Christine.

"Well, I don't know really. I guess I was just wondering what I should do," Christine shrugged, "I'd like to visit Colette again, but Danielle was so kind to invite me for Christmas dinner, I don't want to decline."

"Then don't," Meg laughed, "you could come with us for Christmas Eve and stay until Christmas morning, then you could return for the dinner."

"I guess so," Christine shrugged.

"That is a fine idea, Meg," Antoinette said, "I'm sure that Colette would not mind."

"Alright," Christine said, "but…I'm still a bit worried. What if…well, you know…"

"What if Raoul is there?" Meg asked for her.

"Then you will be kind to him," Antoinette said, "and you will have a pleasant evening."

"I guess so," Christine said, giving a small smile.

"Have you spoken to Erik yet?" Antoinette asked.

"No…I've been trying, but there hasn't been a lot of time, and I'd like to meet him face to face…"

"Perhaps you could invite him to the theatre," Antoinette suggested.

"Yes, I suppose so," Christine sighed, fiddling with one of the Christmas balls, "I guess I should send him a letter then…"

"Yes, that would be wise," Antoinette agreed.

"I'll send it soon, I guess," she sighed, "but there aren't any performances for a while…"

"Then ask him to dinner," Meg said.

"That seems a bit forward," Christine murmured.

"Stop worrying," Antoinette said, taking the ornament from her, "wait until after Christmas, and then try and talk with him. It will not be so bad."

"You're probably right," Christine agreed, taking an ornament and hanging it on the tree.

* * *

**A/N: So...I've been suffering from mild writer's block, it might be evident in this chapter. Oh well, I think its because of all teh busyness of the holidays of stuff...meh, plus Edward (my character for my novel/kind of my mus) has been yammering on about himself (my novel is about him) and poking me with a spork. So please review and Merry Christmas, if I dont' update before then (which I probably won't because of time).**


	44. XLIV

XLIV

Christine yawned and looked out the window, finding herself greeted with the snow covered grounds of the small farm. A fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth and she couldn't help but smile, it was such a quaint, cozy little house. There wasn't really enough room for everyone, but somehow Colette made it work. Meg plopped down beside her and tilted her head, trying to see what she was looking at.

"Its so pretty here," she finally sighed, leaning back into the threadbare sofa, "I wish we could stay here forever."

"I know," Christine said, "I slept so well last night."

Meg nodded in agreement, "Yeah, but the carriage ride was pretty long, and I was pretty tired when we left Paris."

"Mmm hmm," Christine sighed, "we should have left the city earlier, but there was too much to do."

"Yeah…" Meg said, stifling a yawn, "I still can't wait for tonight though. I love Christmas Eve, it's so magical!"

Christine laughed at her friend, "I know. I love the services, with all the beautiful candles, and there'll be the supper. Colette said she was doing something special tonight, since I have to leave. I feel a bit bad; actually, I don't want to put her through any trouble."

"She seems pretty happy to be doing it," Meg shrugged, "and Maman is helping he with the cooking."

"That's nice," Christine murmured, watching as the fat cat meandered into the room and plopped herself down in the sunny spot by the window. It was almost immediately followed by Fleur.

"Hello!" the little girl said cheerfully, joining the cat in the sun.

Christine smiled and gave a little wave, "Hello, Fleur."

"Hi," Meg smiled, "how are you?"

"Real good!" she exclaimed, "Pere Noel is coming tonight, and I've been a really good girl, so he's gonna leave me presents!"

"Really?" Meg asked, leaning in, "Are you sure?"

"Of course," she gasped, "Maman says so!"

Meg laughed, "Well then it must be true."

"Of course," Christine agreed, getting up from the sofa, "I'm going to go for a walk. DO you want to come, Meg?"

"Sure," Meg said, hopping up.

"Fleur?" Christine asked.

She shook her head, "Nope, I can't. I gotta stay here and wait."

"Oh…alright," Christine shrugged.

"Have fun!" Fleur called.

Christine and Meg wandered around the small farm, enjoying the crisp winter air. It was nice to get a break from the city and be able to just wander around aimlessly for a while. They kicked up the snow and went into the barn to see the cats that lived there. In the end they ended up leaning against the fence and watching the big grey horse nose around the snow to find the grass beneath.

"Hey," Meg said, frowning and tilting her head a bit, "didn't they used to have two horses?"

Christine looked up thoughtfully, "Yes…there was a black one, wasn't there?"

"I thought so," Meg said, "I wonder what happened to it."

"Maybe she had to sell him. I remember her complaining about it last year, I think. Something about him not being trained and a big handful."

"Maybe then," Meg said, "it's too bad. This guy looks so lonely…brr, my toes are cold."

"Mine too. Let's go back inside; I'm sure there's something we could help with."

"Maybe they'll need help making cookies," Meg winked.

"You're terrible," Christine replied, shaking her head.

When they got back to the house Antoinette had them help out by washing the dishes as her and Colette cooked. It wasn't what they had planned, but they still enjoyed it. They helped for the entire afternoon and finally went back to sit on the sofa.

"Have you been there all day?" Meg asked Fleur, who was still sitting and looking out the window.

"Yeah," she sighed.

"Why?" Christine asked.

"I'm waiting," she replied, turning around and pouting, "But I guess he's not coming…"

"Who?" Meg asked, "Richard?"

"No," Meg sighed dramatically, "he's meeting us at the church."

"Then who?" Christine asked.

Fleur sighed again and looked over her shoulder and out the window. A huge smile immediately broke across her face. She quickly jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

"He's here, Maman!" she cried.

"Stay inside," Colette warned.

"Aww," Fleur whined, bouncing up and down as she waited.

Christine looked up and out the window, but whoever it was that she had seen, wasn't there anymore. She looked at Meg, who gave a small shrug, and then slowly got up to see who it was.

Fleur was bouncing up and down by the door, waiting impatiently, "Erik's here! Erik's here!"

"Erik?" Christine asked.

"Yup," Fleur beamed.

* * *

Christine felt her heart rate increase as she waited, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. It couldn't be him, not Erik. It had to be a different Erik, and old family friend or relative. Erik wasn't an uncommon name. She quickly glanced at Antoinette, but she wasn't looking at her. 

"Erik!" she was broken from her thoughts as Fleur flung herself at the man who stepped into the kitchen.

She heard a light chuckle and his deep tenor voice, "Good evening."

"I though you weren't coming," Fleur whined, "I was waiting."

"My apologies," he said, "I was delayed."

"Hello, Erik," Antoinette said, a note of teasing in her voice, "do I not get a greeting?"

"Good evening, Madame Giry," he smirked, "how have you been?"

"Well, merci."

"And you?" he asked, turning his attention to Colette.

"Busy," she admitted, "I'm glad you could come. Fleur told me all about seeing you in Paris."

"I'm sure she did," Erik replied.

"Guess what? We're going to the late service at church tonight," Fleur told him, "won't that be fun? You can sit beside me!"

A strange looked crossed his feature, but he nodded his head anyways, "Yes, that will be…fun."

"Christine," Fleur said, hopping over and grabbing her hand, "come and say hello!"

Christine nearly fell forward and tried to smile as Erik whirled around, his eyes flashing with surprise. The shock quickly faded, but he kept staring at her.

"Hello," Christine breathed at length, "how-how are you?"

"Very well," he answered, lifting her hand up and pressing his lips to her knuckles.

Fleur gave a small gasp, "Ooh!"

Erik looked down at her and shook his head, still holding Christine's fingers between his, "It is good to see you again, Christine."

Fleur gave a small giggle and hurried to get Meg, whom Erik greeted kindly before moving into the living room to take a seat. Christine noticed how the fat cat scuttle out of his way when he entered.

"Supper will be soon," Colette informed them, "you didn't miss it, Erik."

He made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, "And here I though if I came late enough."

Collette smacked his shoulder playfully, causing him to flinch, but still smile, "You are terrible, Monsieur."

The meal passed quickly, with plenty of conversation, thanks to Fleur. They then sat in the living room, quietly enjoying the fire while Fleur napped in her room, preparing for the late service. When time finally came for it, Colette got them outside.

"The black horse is back," Meg commented as they walked past the field.

"Yes," Colette said, "he belongs to Erik, the little hellion. I think they suit each other."

"Humph," Erik snorted.

"It's a beautiful horse," Christine commented.

"Merci," Erik murmured, "but he is a terrible handful…there are a few grooms who would agree with that."

"Hurry up," Colette sighed, picking up Fleur, "we'll be late."

"Oh what a pity that would be," Erik grumbled.

"Be good," Antoinette scolded, "it is a lovely service."

* * *

The service was beautiful; the entire church was lit up with candles and decorated for Christmas. Halfway through, Fleur fell asleep, her head rested gently on Colette's shoulder. Erik actually found it rather peaceful, something that he did not expect. Christine sat next to him, and sang beautifully, even though he did not. He caught her looking t him curiously when the hymns came, but he still didn't sing. He didn't want to. And then, when it was all over, it was Christmas day. 

They left the church and ventured out into the cold night. Fleur was suddenly wide awake, and bouncing around beneath their feet. Erik narrowly avoided tripping over her once, but said nothing. He couldn't crush her spirits, not when she was so happy and excited.

"Be careful," Colette sighed, "you're going to trip someone!"

"Do you think Pere Noel will have come yet?" she asked.

"I don't know, maybe," she said, smiling slightly. Richard had left near the end of the service, and Erik had a hunch as to where he had gone.

"I hope so," she said, "guess what, Erik?"

"Hmm?" he asked, trying not to yawn.

"We have something for you!"

"Really?"

"Uh-huh…I hope you'll like it."

"I'm sure I will."

That seemed to be enough for her, as she continued to skip along in the snow. Erik covered his mouth with the back of his hand and yawned, wondering how she could have so much energy.

"Tired?" Antoinette asked.

"Mmm, yes," he sighed, "I am quite ready to sleep."

"Well, do not expect to get much; you will be up at the crack of dawn."

He groaned, "Presents, of course."

"Did you never get up early to open gifts?" Meg asked.

Erik shook his head, "No."

"Oh…that's a shame. I always used to get Maman up, isn't that right?"

"Yes, all the time," she agreed.

"Me too," Christine laughed, "papa would complain so much, but I'd always win in the end."

When they returned to the house Fleur descended on her presents, eyes wide and shining, "Look, he came!"

"You can open one," Colette told her, "just one."

Fleur quickly picked one and tore off the wrapping to reveal a box with new shoes inside. She laughed and clapped her hands together at the shiny little shoes, "They're so pretty!"

Colette laughed, "Alright, now get to bed. We'll open the rest tomorrow. Right now though, I think Erik needs some sleep."

"Not at all," he answered sarcastically, "mmm, good night."

"Night!" Fleur said, wrapping her arms around his legs, "you're too tall, bend down."

Erik sighed and crouched, "Better?"

Fleur nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Uh-huh…merry Christmas, Erik."

"Merry Christmas."

"Night," Fleur murmured, kissing his nose, "you can open your gift tomorrow, alright?"

A small smile flickered across his lips, "Quite so."

Fleur hurried off to bed, and Erik quickly made his way up to the attic to fall onto his bed. He didn't care how cold it was up there, or how it hadn't been cleaned lately. He was just tired and wanted to sleep. He wasn't used to so much excitement over one day; it made very little sense to him. They had never celebrated anything at his house as a child, but if it kept them happy, then he would accept it.

He was almost asleep when he heard a light knock on the door, "Come in!"

"I'm sorry," Christine murmured, watching as he sat up, "were you sleeping?"

"No," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"But you were trying to," she murmured, "I'm sorry. I was just coming to say goodnight."

"Its fine," he said softly, "and goodnight…"

"I-umm…you stay here often?" Christine asked, motioning to the room."

"Occasionally," Erik answered, motioning for her to sit.

"Oh…" she said, perching on the old chair.

"I stayed here after the fire," he continued, "Colette was very kind to me, and continues to be. I am grateful for that, so I come when they ask."

"That's nice," Christine said, a smile gracing her features, "it's nice to see you again…I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Hmm?"

"I…umm, maybe this isn't the best time," she murmured, twisting her hands in her lap.

"No, tell me."

"I-I broke off my engagement," she said quickly, "I-umm…I'm not going to marry Raoul."

Erik gave a small bark of laughter, but not the cruel sort she expected, "Well…that explains a few things…yes, indeed it does."

"I'm…sorry?" Christine asked.

"I met your young friend the other night. He was quite upset over something and seemed to blame me for it," Erik explained, suddenly quite solemn, "its turns out that he can throw a punch…hmm, I now know his motives."

"Oh," Christine gasped, "he-he didn't hurt you?"

"No...not seriously," Erik shook his head, brushing his fingers over his lips, "no…if I may ask, why did you break your engagement? He is a respectable man, and he loved you very deeply, from what I could tell."

Christine watched him for a moment before talking again, "I-I …I didn't want to hurt him.

Erik looked up in confusion and she gave a small, sad smile.

"I didn't love him, not the way that he loved me…I didn't want to lead him on any longer…after all, it would have just ended badly. He is such a kind person, and so very dear…I just didn't want to lead him on, only to break his heart in the end," she explained, "I couldn't keep playing with the hearts of two men…it wasn't fair for him."

"Ah," Erik sighed, hearing his own words repeated.

"I-I was thinking that…maybe…" she trailed off, "never mind."

Erik sighed, his head feeling foggy from lack of sleep, "Perhaps…we should talk another time."

Christine nodded her head, "Oh, of course. You're tired…I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry," he said, "I would like to talk, Christine, just not right now…thank you, though, for telling me. I appreciate it."

She smiled and kissed his cheek, "Good night, Erik…Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he murmured, watching as she left the room.

As soon as the door was closed he flopped back on the bed and sighed, running his hands over his eyes. Sleep came quickly, and he welcomed it, knowing that it would not be long before he was pounced on to wake up.

* * *

**Doo be doo be doo...well I hope everyone had a happy Christmas, and if you do not celebrate it, then I hope you are still enjoying the holidays. You know, the enormous crowds in the malls, the carolers hounding your every step and the bad Christmas music being played/sung off key...yeah. Well here you are, another update because I'm feeling good after getting gifties. Yay! I'd really appreciate a few reviews. So tell me if you hate it, love it...love me (though that might be a wee bit creepy).**


	45. XLV

XLV

"Erik!" the shrill cry woke him almost immediately, as a weight landed on the bed with a thump, "are you awake, Erik? Are you?"

"No," he groaned, peering at her with one eye.

"But its Christmas morning," Fleur said excitedly, "you have to get up so you can open your presents! Everyone else is up."

Erik sighed and sat up, "Very well, I'll be down in a moment."

"No, come down now!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the door.

Erik groaned and allowed her to pull him towards the door. She reached up and opened it, pulling him down the stairs and into the living room where everyone was packed in tightly. Richard gave him a small wave in greeting and he saw Antoinette hide a laugh as Fleur directed him to a seat beside her. He sighed as he sat down and shot Antoinette a small glare.

"Glad you could join us," she said.

"It is far too early to be awake," he replied, motioning towards the sunrise that was just starting to tint the sky pink.

"Good morning," Colette said, entering the room with a tray of mugs. She handed him one and laughed, "I think you'll be needing this. Would anyone else care for coffee?"

"Yes," Richard said, taking one of the mugs.

"Merci," Antoinette murmured, also accepting one.

Meg and Christine both declined and Colette disappeared back into the kitchen for a moment, before returning and sitting down, "Alright, is everyone ready?"

"Yeah!" Fleur exclaimed, hurrying over to the small pile of presents.

Christine laughed at the child's exuberance and stole a glance at Erik, who was sipping his coffee. He looked as if he were only half awake, his clothes rumpled slightly, and his hair still tousled from sleep. Yet when he set the mug down a small smile played on his lips. Apparently he was amused by Fleur's excitement as well.

"Alright, I'm gonna give out the presents," Fleur announced, picking up one of the boxes, "umm…it says…M-E…Meg!"

Meg laughed and accepted the box, "Thank you."

"Uh-huh, and this one is for-"

"Fleur, why don't we let Meg open her gift first?" Colette asked.

"Uh-huh. Meg, you gotta open your present," Fleur said.

"Alright," Meg giggled, tearing back the colourful paper to reveal a box. She opened it carefully to reveal a pair of Pointe shoes. Meg smiled broadly, "wow, these are perfect."

"What are they?" Fleur asked, peering into the box, "shoes?"

"Pointe shoes," Meg explained, "they're for dancing, and I've wanted a new pair for a while."

"Ooh…next," she scampered over and took up another gift, "umm…Christine!"

"Thank you," Christine said, taking the box and tearing back the paper and opening the box to find a light blue, silk nightgown, "oh, its beautiful…merci."

* * *

Fleur quickly went through the rest of the gifts, opening hers as she found them until only one small box remained. Excitedly she picked it up and hurried over to Erik, "This is your gift!" 

He smiled and took it from her, slowly untying the ribbon and carefully removing the paper. All the while Fleur bobbed up and down nervously until he opened the box and picked up the leather gloves that rested inside.

"Do you like them?" Fleur asked eagerly, "I picked them."

"I do," Erik said, smiling down at her, "they are beautiful."

"Richard said you'd like them, because you always wear them," Fleur said.

Erik nodded his head, "I need new ones, and now for my gist to you."

"You got me a present?" Fleur asked, her blue eyes widening.

"Of course," Erik said, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Where is it?"

He gave a small flourish of his hand and a little box appeared, a red ribbon tied around it. Fleur gave a small gasp and took it from him, quickly removing the bow and opening it to reveal a small chocolate rosebud nestled inside. She smiled broadly at it and closed the lid again.

"It's so pretty," she gasped, "I'm gonna save it, alright?"

"It is yours to do with as you wish," he answered.

"Thank you," she said, giving him a quick hug, "I'll keep it for a special time!"

"What a good idea," Meg laughed, "is that all?"

"No," Richard said, "there is one more, for Colette…however…perhaps I will give it to her later. After all the excitement has died down a bit, hmm?"

"Oh, alright," Colette said, "I'll just start breakfast then. I suspect everyone is hungry by now."

She left the room and Fleur scooped up several of her gifts and tottered off with them. Erik watched her go and gave Richard a curious look, one which he shrugged off.

"You know, that horse of yours gave me some trouble when I came in this morning," he murmured.

"Did he?" Erik asked, "I left his out last night, so that you could put your mare in the barn."

"He is quite vocal," Richard informed him, "and Juillet was quite glad to answer him."

Erik shrugged and rose from his seat, "I am going to get dressed properly now. And you, Monsieur, are a terrible coward."

Richard blushed slightly at his jest, "Humph!"

* * *

The morning passed quickly. Fleur had eagerly put on her new shoes and frock, and sat in the living room to play with her new doll. Christine and Meg talked quietly on the sofa, while the fat cat settled between them and purred loudly. Christine noted that Erik had disappeared immediately after breakfast, up into the attic for what she assumed was a nap. He had seemed quite tired that morning, so she didn't doubt it. 

"Christine," Antoinette said gently, "you should be going soon."

"Oh…I almost forgot," she sighed, "umm, is everything still at the house?"

"Yes, your dress is there. I did not think that you would want to travel in it."

"No, you're right," she sighed.

"You still have the key, correct?" Antoinette asked, finding her cloak and gloves for her.

"Yes, I do," she answered.

"Very good," Antoinette said, "the carriage will take you to the house and if you will need it afterwards, you must tell him to wait."

"I'll be fine," Christine said, twisting her gloves in her hands, "just fine, thank you, Madame."

"Of course," she nodded, "will you be alright by yourself for the night?"

"Yes, I will," Christine said, smiling nervously.

They both turned when Erik came down the stairs, pulling on a pair of black riding gloves. He looked at them and raised his eyebrow curiously, "Are you not staying?"

"No, I-I'm going back to have dinner with the Armands…they invited me," Christine answered, tugging on her gloves.

Erik gave a small nod as he slipped on a pair of riding boots, "I see."

"And where are you off to?" Antoinette asked.

"Paris," he answered, "it would seem that Miss Daae and I have the same plan."

"Then perhaps I could ask you to ensure that she arrives at the party and returns home safely?" Antoinette asked

"Of course," Erik murmured.

"Merci," Antoinette said.

Erik nodded and slipped outside to saddle his horse. Christine watched him go from the door, seeing the carriage waiting patiently outside. Erik said something to the driver, who nodded in response, and continued to the field. She hid a small laugh when she saw the black stallion throw its head and gallop away from him playfully. Then Meg's hand closed around her arm and tugged her into the living room.

"Have a good night," Meg said, fidgeting a bit and staring at the floor, "I hope you have a good time."

"So do I," Christine murmured.

"And be careful," Meg said quickly.

"What?" Christine asked, realising how nervous her friend seemed.

"I know…I know that you say that you love him, and all that. I know that you want to be with him, Christine, but I want you to be careful," Meg said.

"Meg, it will be fine," Christine assured her friend.

"Can you really be certain of that?" Meg asked, "I know that he seems changed, and that he had a hard life, but I want you to remember what he did. He seems like a kind person…I just don't want you to be hurt."

Christine nodded her head solemnly, "Alright, Meg. I promise that I'll be careful…I promise."

Meg nodded her head and forced a smile, "Then have fun tonight."

"I will," Christine said, returning the smile, "and I'll be careful."

Meg gave a small laugh, "Now hurry up, or you won't get back in time."

Christine nodded and hurried out to the waiting cab. Erik was waiting beside it, his horse tugging against the bit while he waited. She gave a small smile and let Antoinette help her in.

"Have a good time, my dear, and be careful," she said.

"I will," Christine replied, closing the door against some of the cold.

A moment later the carriage jerked forward, and she heard the added hooves of Erik's stallion. She gave a small smile and leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes and allowing the rattling of the carriage to lull her into a light sleep.

* * *

**Whoo hoo! Updates before New Years Eve! If you've been reading, please review. Thank you.**


	46. XLVI

XLVI

Christine opened her eyes, staring around the small space blearily. She heard voices outside and sat up a bit when the door opened. Erik looked in quickly entered, closing the door against the cold. He was dressed differently, now in a formal suit, and he blew into his hands once he was seated, before rubbing them together.

"It's cold out?" Christine asked, smiling when he looked up.

"Yes," he answered, giving a small chuckle, "we will be at your house soon, so that you can change."

"That's good…" she murmured, trailing off.

A few minutes passed in silence, before Erik began to speak, "I would like to-"

He was cut off as the carriage jerked to a stop, and the driver opened the door. Christine gave a sheepish smile and climbed out, "I'll just be a minute. Would you like to step inside?"

"That's alright," he answered, "I will wait here."

Christine gave a small nod and dashed towards the house, quickly unlocking and opening the door before stepping inside. Erik watched until she was in before tilting his head back and sighing. He wasn't entirely sure about this Christmas dinner. After all, it was with Charles, and he did not know how many other people would be there.

Christine was back before he could dwell on it, brushing a lock of her hair over her shoulder as she hurried into the carriage. She was wearing an exquisite navy blue dress, accented with white lace at the ends of the sleeves and around the neckline. She offered him a quick smile before settling in, and then the driver was off. The carriage rattling quietly down the street.

"It looks like it might snow," Christine commented, "the clouds are getting dark."

"Perhaps," Erik said, trying to catch a glimpse of them out the small, foggy window of the carriage, "Christine…"

"Yes?" she prompted, trying to catch his eye as he stared out the window.

"I would like to apologise," he said.

"For what?" she asked.

"Last night," he clarified, finally focussing his gaze on her, "I'm afraid I wasn't quite sure how to react to your news. I cannot say that it upset me."

"Oh!" Christine gasped, "no, I-I didn't expect…it was fine…I just thought that you should know, because…" She trailed off and shrugged her shoulders.

Erik frowned slightly and nodded his head, turning to look out the window again, eh could see the house approaching through the fog, the lights shining blearily through the window, "We're here."

"Oh?" Christine looked up, "yes, we are."

The carriage stopped abruptly at the door and Erik climbed out, offering his arm to Christine as she climbed down. She smiled lightly and accepted it, stepping out quickly and smoothing her skirts before they approached the door. Erik raised his fist and knocked three times before stepping back slightly and waiting.

Christine gave a small laugh when she heard him counting under his breath, "Three…two…one…"

"Merry Christmas!" Charles exclaimed, opening the door, a huge smile on his face, "ah, Sabina and Miss Daae, welcome."

Christine gave a small laugh, "Merry Christmas, Monsieur."

"Merry Christmas, Armand," Erik muttered.

"I'm glad you decided to come," Charles chuckled, "Danielle told me that she invited you, but I hardly expected you. Thank you for coming."

"I could not refuse," Erik answered.

"Charles?" Danielle asked, stepping into the hall, "oh, Monsieur Sabina, Christine, how good of you to come."

"Hello," Christine smiled as Danielle hurried over and kissed both her cheeks, "it's good to see you again."

"You as well," Danielle laughed, "and you too, Monsieur."

"Good evening, Madame," he murmured, giving a small nod.

Danielle just laughed and kissed both his cheeks, giving him a sympathetic smile afterwards "You're still shy?"

Erik just gave a small laugh, and allowed her to lead them towards the parlour, Charles quickly coming up beside him, a nervous smile playing on his lips. That immediately made him wary, for he knew Charles too well to allow that smile to pass as a hosts nerves.

"Charles?" a familiar voice called, "have you abandoned us in here?"

Erik's eyes darkened and he froze, turning his eyes on Charles with a lethal glare, "I will kill you, Armand."

"Please, Sabina, I honestly did not know when you were invited that-"

"And it will be very slow, and very painful," Erik interrupted, leaning in closer, "very, very painful."

Charles gave a nervous laugh and stepped back slightly, "Come now, lets just try to enjoy a nice evening…"

"Charles?"

"My apologies!" he called hurriedly, "we'll be right in, Vanessa."

Christine frowned slightly when Erik cast him another biting glare, "Excruciating."

"Yes, yes," Charles groaned, "but after this is over, hmm?"

Erik rolled his eyes and stalked after him and into the parlour, where two other people sat. One was a woman with dark hair, tied back gracefully. She wore a crimson dress and her eyes were frigid when she turned to look at them. The other was a man who resembled Charles, with the same green eyes, and dark hair tinted by grey.

"Miss Daae," Charles said, "may I introduce you to my brother, Jacques, and his lovely wife Vanessa."

"A pleasure," Christine said, curtseying quickly, "and merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you as well, Mademoiselle," Vanessa replied, "and it is good to see you again, Monsieur Sabina."

"Indeed," Erik replied.

"Miss Daae?" Jacques asked thoughtfully, "why does that name sound familiar?"

"I was a singer," Christine answered hurriedly, "at the Opera Populaire."

"Yes, I remember," Jacques agreed, "the one that our young Raoul was interested in, correct?"

"Oh…yes, but it-it didn't work out," Christine murmured, "unfortunately."

"Wasn't he supposed to come tonight?" Vanessa asked.

"No," Charles answered, "he and his brother were invited, but declined to spend Christmas with their family."

"I see," Vanessa cooed, turning her gaze towards Christine and giving a small smile, "oh, you are standing under the mistletoe."

Christine looked up and gave a small gasp, surely enough a sprig of mistletoe was hung in the doorway. She gave a small, awkward smile, "So I am."

"Well?" Vanessa asked expectantly.

Charles laughed and gave Danielle a quick kiss before jabbing Erik with his elbow and whispering, "Go on, Sabina."

Erik frowned and gave his a questioning look.

"You are under the mistletoe," Charles pointed out.

"So are you," Erik pointed out, "does that mean we should kiss, Armand?"

"Don't be a stubborn git," Charles hissed.

"I will-"

"Excuse me?" Vanessa asked, "Is something the matter?"

"No," Charles answered quickly.

"Well then, is Monsieur Sabina afraid of a little kiss?" she continued.

"No," Charles answered, "but, well you know, he is a bit shy and…"

Charles trailed off when Erik gently placed his finger under Christine's chin, tilting upwards as he pressed his lips gently against hers. He closed his eyes for a moment before pulling away and allowing a held breath to escape through his nose. He then straightened and stepped away from the doorframe, leaving the occupants of the room to stare at him for a moment.

"Or I could be wrong," Charles muttered.

"Supper will be ready soon," Danielle announced, attempting to remove a bit of the tension, "if we could go to the dining room?"

"Splendid," Jacques chuckled, "I am a bit hungry."

"Come along then," Charles murmured, hanging back until Erik was beside him, "and what was that, Sabina?"

"I believe that it is called a kiss," Erik answered saucily.

"Funny," Charles said, rolling his eyes, "a bit intimate, hmm?"

"Jealous?" Erik asked, smirking.

"Oh, and you wish to kill me?" Charles asked, "Maybe it's my turn to threaten you."

"I quiver in fear," Erik replied.

* * *

The dinner was everything that a Christmas should have been. There was a perfectly roasted turkey, accompanied by delicious stuffing, mashed potatoes, assorted types of vegetables and gravy. 

"Are you going to eat more than that?" Vanessa asked, eyeing Erik's plate, "there is hardly anything there."

"I am quite content with what I have," Erik said, "It will be more than enough."

"It all looks so delicious," Christine commented.

"I'm glad you think so," Charles laughed, "there is plenty to go around."

The meal was fairly quiet; Vanessa made a few small comments, but nothing too judgemental. Christine caught Erik casting a few glares towards Charles, who returned them happily, but they were obviously not overly serious.

"That was lovely," Vanessa complimented at the end of the meal.

"Yes, it was delicious," Christine agreed.

"Well then, to the parlour?" Charles asked, standing up, "I believe there is a fire going, and I can pour us some drinks. How does that sound?"

"Splendid!" Jacques chuckled.

"Tea for me," Vanessa informed him.

"Of course," Charles said, "tea for the ladies and possibly Erik."

"Oh, I thought that I recalled him drinking at our house," Vanessa said thoughtfully, "he claimed to enjoy it."

"I will have a drink, Armand," Erik sighed, not wanting to bother with the argument that would come if he refused.

"Very well then," Charles said, finding them glasses as they settled into the parlour, Erik managing to steal the partially isolated armchair.

"Cognac?" Charles asked hopefully.

"Of course," Jacques replied, while Erik nodded his head.

"The tea will be here in a minute," Danielle smiled.

* * *

Once the tea arrived the drinks were poured and distributed. Then the room fell into a somewhat awkward silence, interrupted only by the clinking of glasses and china. Christine stole a glance at Erik, who was staring down his drink as if it had wronged him terribly. It made her smile a bit, and she quickly sipped her tea to hide it. She could see Charles looking around the room a bit nervously, gaze resting on Erik for a while, then flicking towards Vanessa and back again. She had a feeling that they did not get along. 

"Tell me, Monsieur Sabina," Vanessa said, breaking the silence, "how had your work been?"

"Slow," Erik answered, "there is very little to do during the winter. The weather prohibits most work from being done."

"Can you not still design?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, sipping his drink, "but I have no commissions at the moment."

"None?" she asked, apparently shocked, "but you have such talent, or at least that is what Charles claims, and if this house conveys any of your talent then he speaks the truth. Surely you could find work easily."

"I am not looking," Erik murmured.

"Well," Charles interjected, "we were asking him about designing a summer home, weren't we, Danielle?"

"Yes," she agreed.

"How nice, where are you planning to have this home?" Vanessa asked.

"Well, we haven't decided yet," Charles laughed, "There are too many options."

"Of course," Vanessa trilled, "oh, and, Monsieur Sabina, would you be delighting us tonight with your musical talents?"

Erik looked up from his drink and frowned, "No, I would not."

"No Christmas carols?"

"I'm afraid not," he growled.

"What a shame," she sighed, "well, I suppose Charles doesn't have a piano anyways."

"I do own a piano," Charles grumbled, "it is in the ballroom.

"Oh? I wasn't aware of that."

"Look," Christine interrupted, "its snowing!"

The conversations stopped as they looked out the window. Surely enough, fat snow flake were falling from the sky, being blown around violently by the wind. Vanessa gave a small snort and shrugged it off, but Erik seemed more interested in the weather. He continued to stare out the window long after the others had looked away.

"Do you like the snow, Sabina?" Charles teased.

"I do, actually," he replied quietly, "I have always enjoyed it."

"Oh?" Danielle asked, genuinely curious.

"Since I was young," Erik continued, "I find it quite beautiful."

"Humph, it is cold and wet, it causes illness and keeps people from travelling," Vanessa puffed.

Erik shrugged his shoulders lightly, "Yes, but it is still beautiful."

Charles smiled at the light remark, "I suspect it might keep you here longer than you planned, though. I'm not sure I want to send a carriage out in this weather, I would fear for the safety of its driver and occupants, as well as the horses."

"Oh yes," Danielle agreed, "you shouldn't travel in such bad weather."

"I'm sure that it will be fine," Erik said a bit darkly.

"We have enough guest rooms," Charles assured him, "and I'm sure we could find you both something more comfortable to sleep in."

"Of course," Danielle agreed.

Erik suppressed a small groan, "You are very generous, and I suppose it would be foolish to travel during a storm."

"It's settled then," Charles said firmly, "you will remain here for the night and return to the city tomorrow."

"Indeed," Erik grumbled, finishing his drink.

"That's kind of you," Christine sighed, "thank you."

"Oh, I have a splendid idea," Vanessa said suddenly, "since Monsieur Sabina refuses to entertain us, perhaps Miss Daae could? You do sing, correct?"

"Oh, umm…I used to," Christine shrugged, "I mean; I guess I could…sing something.

"That would be delightful," Vanessa smiled.

"It would be nice," Danielle agreed, "if you want to."

"Oh, no it's fine," Christine smiled, ""umm…a Christmas carol?"

"That would be appropriate," Vanessa stated.

Christine nodded and stood up, smoothing out her skirts as she searched for a carol to sing. She thought of one and began to hum it quietly, trying to find the proper pitch for it before starting. It had been so long since she had sung anything, and she suddenly felt quite nervous.

"Go ahead," Vanessa urged.

Christine began to sing, though Erik did not really recognize the song. Of all the music that he knew, Christmas carols were some of the most unfamiliar, given that he had never sung them with his mother, or heard her sings them. Still, it was beautiful, and brought back bitter sweet memories. She still had the most beautiful voice, even though she had not been using it. When the song ended he gave a small smile and stood up, unable to sit through another one.

"Are you going somewhere?" Vanessa asked, "I believe she was going to sing another song."

"I will return shortly," he answered quietly, not trusting his voice above a whisper.

"You are being quite rude," Vanessa persisted.

"Then I apologise," he hissed, continuing towards the door. As he passed Christine he kissed her cheek, "it was beautiful."

* * *

**A/N: Well Happy New Years, hope everyone had a good one...and yeah, I'm so tirred the words keep blurring on the screen, so I'm going to bed. Please leave a review and you will get a yummy cookie or something else that is edible...pardon the spelling.grammar/other mistakes. As I said: so sleepy!**


	47. XLVII

XLVII

Christine touched her hand to her cheek and turned to watch him sweep from the room. For a moment she considered following him, but thought better of it. So, with a smile, she turned back towards the room.

"Beautiful," Jacques complimented once her focus was returned, "you have a lovely voice, young lady."

"Thank you," she said, her smile broadening.

"Sabina seemed to think so as well," Charles said thoughtfully, "I do not believe I have ever seen him act so…friendly towards anyone."

"No, he is a cold and distant man," Vanessa sniffed, "but you have a good voice, you should become a singer."

Christine just smiled, unsure of whether it was supposed to be a compliment.

"How about another song?" Jacques asked.

"Of course," Christine agreed, "do you have a favourite?"

"Oh my," he laughed, "let me think on it for a moment."

While his brother thought Charles leaned towards his wife and whispered, "Do you think Sabina is acting a bit…off?"

"Perhaps," she murmured.

"That man concerns me," Charles sighed, "I think I might go check on him."

"No you won't," Danielle said, placing a hand on his knee, "you wouldn't know what to say. If you're that worried, then allow me to go."

Charles gave a small smile, "Alright, I suppose you are right."

Danielle gave a small nod and stood up, "I'll be right back."

"Of course," Jacques laughed, "shall we wait for you?"

"No, go ahead, Christine," she smiled.

* * *

Erik sighed and watched the snow flutter to the ground. He could see it swirling in the wind overhead, but the protection of the garden wall meant that he was sheltered from it. Still, the cold flakes settled on his clothes and in his hair, leaving them white as they slowly melted. He brushed a few from his sleeve and sighed. He hoped that he had not hurt her feelings in leaving the room, but he knew that he could not stay; hearing her sing was just too much for him. 

Her voice was still as beautiful as he remembered, though he could tell that she had not been practising. There was a time when he would have scolded her for that, but not anymore. After all, he had barely looked at music, let alone played it or sung in so long. He could easily understand why she was not singing.

"You'll catch cold," Danielle said softly, causing his to jump and wheel around. She just smile and gave a little laugh.

"You startled me," Erik murmured.

"I'm sorry," she said, "are you coming back in?"

"In a minute," he said, "I thought I would get some fresh air."

"I see," she said, "You know, you worry my husband."

"Do I?" Erik asked, "And why is that?"

"Perhaps it is the way that you leave rooms suddenly," she said thoughtfully, "or the way that your mood can change so quickly. You did leave rather suddenly; I think he was worried that Vanessa was bothering you. But it wasn't Vanessa, was it?"

"Pardon?"

"You told me once that you have been in love," Danielle said gently, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I have a feeling that you are going somewhere with this," Erik responded, turning so that his back was facing her.

""You said that many things happened…" she continued, "you knew Miss Daae before we introduced you, didn't you? The way you act around her…was she the one?"

"I don't know what you mean," he muttered.

"I think you do," Danielle said, "the woman you loved…the things that happened…I may not have been in France at the time, but it was in the newspapers, and I have heard many stories…then there was something that Raoul said."

"You are a very intelligent young woman," Erik sighed, "if you are in fact thinking what I believe you to be thinking."

Danielle smiled and placed her hand on his arm, "Merci, Monsieur Sabina."

"Hmm…have you told your husband?"

"No," she said, shaking her head slightly, "but I don't think he would care. You are a good friend to us. I don't care about your past, if you wish to keep it to yourself, then that is your choice."

Erik gave her a curious look and laughed, "Well then…why don't we go back inside? It is getting rather cold."

"A splendid idea, Monsieur," she agreed, "perhaps you could entertain us with some magic?"

"If you have a deck of cards, I would be delighted."

* * *

"Joining us again?" Vanessa quipped when they entered the room. 

Erik gave a small smirk and opened his hands, sending a deck of cars shooting from one hand to another, "And now, it is my turn to provide the entertainment."

Danielle gave a small smile and sat beside Christine, "Go ahead."

Erik smiled and, with a flick of his wrist made the deck disappear, only to reappear in his other hand a second later. He then shuffled the deck quickly, and with an odd flourish that left Christine feeling a bit dizzy. Then, spreading the deck out on the table, face down, he took a step back and pointed at Vanessa. "Pick one."

She sniffed and picked a card off the table, "There, I've done so."

"Look at it," Erik said, as if it were the obvious thing to do.

Vanessa sighed and looked at the card before showing it to her husband, "Alright."

"Four of diamonds," Erik stated.

"Brilliant," Jacques laughed.

Erik snatched the card back and gathered the deck together, reshuffling it before holding it out to Danielle, "Cut the deck please, Madame."

She smiled and did so, allowing Erik to place the bottom half of the deck over the top. He then tapped the deck with his index finger three times and lifted the card off the top, showing it to them, "Four of diamonds."

"Uncanny," Jacques laughed, "how do you do that?"

Erik gave a small laugh, "Magic."

"Well then, let's see a bit more," Jacques chortled.

Erik continued, dazzling them with an array of simple and complex card tricks. Danielle and Christine seemed to be the most amused by them, while Charles and Vanessa remained sceptical. Erik didn't mind though, and continued with his display, never repeating a trick twice or making any mistakes.

"Miss Daae, Madame Armand," he said, offering them the deck, "please take one card each."

They obeyed, removing the top two cards from the deck and looking at them. Erik smiled, "Good, good. Now, Miss Daae, may I please have your card? Thank you. Madame Armand, could you show the room your card?"

She nodded and showed the room the card, "Like this?"

"Yes, very good," he said, holding up Christine's card, "ace of spades, if I am not mistaken. No? Good, now…"

With a flick of his wrist he tossed the card into the hearth, delighting at Charles gasp, "That's from my deck!"

"Oh, shut up," he sighed, watching as the card burned in the fire, "now, Madame Armand, could you please tell me what card you hold in your hand?"

"The three of clubs," she answered.

"Very well, I shall trust that you are telling the truth."

"She is," Vanessa informed him.

"Really? I'm not sure I believe you," Erik quipped, "may I see?"

Danielle handed him the card, which he displayed to the room. He heard Christine gasp, "But…that was my card. The ace of spades."

"So it is," Erik said, looking at it, "but then where did the three of clubs end up?"

"Stop fooling around," Charles grumped.

Erik smirked and reached forward, plucking a card from behind his ear, "Ah, here it is."

"What the-" Charles gasped, "how…where did you get that?"

"The missing card," Erik said, displaying the card.

Jacques clapped cheerfully, "Well, that was quite the display, Monsieur. You must tell me how you did it."

"Magic," Erik said simply, "and what sort of magician would I be if I revealed all my secrets? Not a very good one, that's the type."

"Well, you are an…amazing magician," Vanessa yawned, "but I believe I will be off to bed. Come, dear."

"Of course," Jacques said, getting out of his chair, "top notch show there. If this were a fair I would give you a few coins, hmm?"

Erik gave a small smile, "Indeed, thank you for the compliments."

"One last trick?" Danielle asked, "Before we're all off to bed."

Erik nodded and, with a small puff of smoke and flurry of sparks, the card disappeared.

"I had better get those back," Charles grumbled.

"Check your pocket," Erik responded.

Charles dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the deck. With a small frown he shoved it back in, "Thank you."

"You are welcome. Now, good night."

"You can have the guest room that overlooks the garden," Charles told him, "I'm sure that you can find it."

"Good night," Christine murmured, smiling at him.

"Good night," he said softly, and then turned and went up to the bedroom

* * *

**A/N: Ooh, it is an update! Anyways, I hope you enjoy, I'm not sure if I really like it, but at least it is finished. Umm...this story should be wrapping up fairly soon...please leave me a review.**


	48. XLVIII

XLVIII

Erik stared out the large windows that overlooked the garden. The snow obscured nearly everything as it swirled about, creating strange patterns in the night sky. He found that he didn't feel the least bit tired as he watched the snow, just oddly calm. As far as he could tell the night had gone well. He had even made an attempt to get along with Vanessa, not that it went entirely well.

There was a light knock on the door and he let out a small sigh, "Enter."

Christine opened the door and stepped inside, closing it gingerly behind her, "I just came to say good night. Wow, its still snowing really hard."

"It stopped for a while," Erik shrugged, turning to face her, "good night; I hope you had a pleasant evening."

"Oh, it was wonderful," she said, smiling as she drew closer to him, "I especially enjoyed those card tricks, they were so interesting."

"I am glad," he murmured.

"Did you?"

He frowned slightly before nodding his head, "It was…tolerable. I'll admit that I cannot stand Armand for prolonged periods of time, not can I stand his sister in-law…for any period of time."

Christine gave a small smile, "I didn't think she was that terrible…"

Erik gave a small laugh and sighed, "Hmmm, you sang beautifully tonight, from what I heard. I am sorry that I did not stay for the rest."

"Its fine," she shrugged, "and you can tell me the truth. It wasn't very good at all; I haven't sung in so long, I know I'm terribly out of practise."

"It was still beautiful," he assured her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, "you have always sung beautifully, no matter what."

She smiled and gave a small sigh, "Maybe we could go out to dinner sometime…"

"Perhaps," he said, frowning a bit at the change of subject, "if you would like that."

"I would like it very much," she said, "you could come to the theatre sometime…to watch Meg and I perform and then-then we could go to supper afterwards."

He nodded his head, "Yes, I suppose I could."

She gave a small, nervous laugh and bit her bottom lip, "It seems so strange to be asking you this. I've thought about it before, ever since I broke my engagement, but I never had the courage to talk to you. I guess I was afraid of what you might say, that after everything that had happened you wouldn't want to try again…that you wouldn't love me anymore."

"I will always love you," he sighed, wrapping his arms around her, "I always have, even after everything."

She smiled and rested her head against his chest, breathing in deeply, "Everyone keeps telling me to take things slowly, that I should be careful and I'm so tired of it. I don't think that I want to take things slowly anymore, I've been moving slowly for so long now…but I will, if that's what's needed."

Erik smiled, "Perhaps we shall start with dinner and see how it goes from there, hmm?"

Christine nodded and took a step back, "I'd like that…well, I really should be going to bed."

"Good night, Christine," Erik said, leaning in and stealing a quick kiss, a smile flitting across his lips.

"Good night," she said, leaving the room slowly, "sleep well."

He nodded and watched as the door closed before going to lie down on the bed, "Sleep well…"

* * *

The next morning dawned brightly, and Danielle quickly had everyone wake and down for breakfast. Erik could barely stand to be awake at that hour, let alone dealing with Vanessa, but he tried to keep his spirits up, focussing intently on his coffee as the sun nearly blinded him.

"The snow had stopped," Charles said, a broad smile on his features, "we should go out for a walk of the grounds today, or a ride."

"Yes," Erik said, sarcasm seeping into his voice, "wouldn't that be fun? We could go out in the freezing cold to walk through a good foot of snow so that our socks and pants will become soaked. What a splendid idea, Armand."

Charles just rolled his eyes, "Aren't you a cheerful person in the morning?"

"I think it would be lovely," Christine said.

"You see?" Charles teased, "Miss Daae agrees with me."

Erik just sipped his coffee, waiting for Vanessa's comment.

"It is rather cold," she pointed out, "you would not want anyone to become ill, would you, Charles? Besides, I am sure that Monsieur Sabina and Miss Daae would like to return home."

Charles sighed dramatically, "I suppose you are right."

"Another time perhaps," Danielle said.

"Yes," Erik agreed, "another time."

"Well then I suppose I should prepare a carriage," Charles sighed, "one will be fine?"

Erik nodded his head, "Yes, it would be rather foolish to prepare two."

Charles disappeared for a moment and then returned, sitting down again to finish his breakfast, "Well there it is, the carriage will be ready by the time you are finished breakfast."

"Thank you," Erik said, pushing a piece of egg around his plate.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Charles said, something that Erik usually found a bad thing, "Sabina, Danielle and I have tickets for the theatre in the New Year, would you consider coming with us?"

Erik raised an eyebrow, "You just happen to have an extra ticket?"

"Yes, you see a friend was supposed to attend with us but he could not make it for certain reasons. So, would you care to come?"

Erik sighed, he had a feeling that he knew who that friend was, but chose to push it from his mind, "I suppose I could, it might be…fun."

Charles nodded, "Yes but…wait, did you agree to come?"

"I believe he did," Vanessa said, "you should really pay closer attention, Charles; people do not enjoy repeating themselves."

"Well then," Charles said, clearing his throat awkwardly, "that's splendid, you'll enjoy, trust me. You'll be able to see Miss Daae perform."

"That would be nice," Erik agreed.

Christine gave a small smile, "It'll be good to know there are friends in the audience."

"We'll have to go out afterwards," Danielle murmured.

"That would be lovely," Christine smiled.

* * *

After breakfast was finished Christine and Erik left, climbing into the carriage to plough through the snow and back to the city. They made good time, as once they hit the city streets there was less snow due to the traffic.

"You should come in for tea," Christine said, once the carriage had stopped outside her house, "Madame and Meg should be home soon, if they haven't already gotten back, I think they'd like it if you came in."

Erik contemplated it for a moment before giving a small nod, "Thank you for the invitation. I do not have anything to do today so I will accept."

Christine smiled and opened the carriage door, giving a small shiver as the cold air wafted into the cab. Erik followed her and instructed the driver to return home before following her up to the front door.

* * *

**A/N: I know its short, and not particularly good (at least in my mind) but it is a chapter, and no matter what I did I couldn't make myself like it. That may be because I had to look at it for so long, but whatever. Sorry for the long time between updates, I've been swamped with school work. But I'm finished my ISUs now, so I'll hopefully be updating more...yeah so, review please! They motivate me.**


	49. XLIX

**XLIX**

Afternoon tea he could almost get used to. He found that he actually enjoyed the quiet company of friends and the carefree conversations. It was public outings that he still had doubts about. The large crowds, the noisy banter always in the background, the uncomfortable suits and the feeling of eyes upon his face were a constant bother.

"This will be fun!" Charles assured him for what seemed like the hundredth time, "you'll like this ballet, I know it. We have wonderful seats as well, right in the centre."

Erik suppressed a groan. Just what he wanted, to se sitting in the centre of a filled aisle, no doubt with some rich stranger beside him.

"Do you think we will see Philippe here?" Danielle asked, scanning the crowd for a familiar face.

"I have no doubts," Charles said, shaking his head slightly, "he's not one to miss a ballet. Still, last I heard he's still trying to cheer up our dear Raoul."

"What a shame," Danielle sighed, "but he is still young and well to do, I have no doubts that he will find someone."

"Yes," Charles agreed solemnly. He then shook his head and smiled, "Here we are at the theatre and not enjoying ourselves. Come, Sabina, let us go find out seats."

Erik gave a small nod and followed them into the auditorium, trying not to brush against anyone as he did so. The crowd of patrons was already grating on his nerves, and when Danielle looped her arm through his he nearly jumped.

"Just try to enjoy yourself," she said, patting his hand, "relax, no one will bite."

He gave her a grim little smile, "Perhaps not."

She smiled sweetly and released him as they began to go down to their seats, "It will be quite nice, if you give it a chance."

"Definitely," Charles agreed, "pretty dancers in extravagant costumes and the like."

Danielle tapped her husband with her fan, "Humph!"

"Of course I could find no one lovelier than you, my dear," he chuckled.

Erik suppressed he urge to roll his eyes and instead focussed them on the program. He found that he recognized quite a few of the names on it as dancers who had once worked at the Opera Populaire. He quickly found Christine's name, followed by Meg's. It seemed as if the little blonde had managed to obtain a duet during the program. He wasn't surprised really; she had always been a wonderful dancer. She got it from her mother. Christine had a lot of talent as well, though he would admit that she was not as good as her friend. She was certainly meant more for singing than ballet.

"It should be starting soon," Charles muttered, squinting at his pocket watch in the dim light.

"Indeed," Erik grumbled, glancing at the overweight woman who had just taken the seat beside him.

Erik couldn't say that he was a huge fan of the ballet. It was pretty, with its varying costumes and music, but it lacked something. He figured that it was the lack of any sort of dialogue that was the problem. He often found his mind wandering during the program, unable to focus on the proper dancer at the proper moment. If it wasn't for the program, or his knowledge of the stories, he had a feeling that he would be completely lost.

"Well?" Charles asked as they shuffled out of the auditorium and into the full front hall, "what did you think?"

"It was…amusing," Erik shrugged.

"I thought so," Charles agreed.

"So, it wasn't so terrible?" Danielle teased, peering through the crowd again.

"Not so terrible," Erik nodded.

"Well then, would you find it terrible to go out and get a drink now?" Charles asked.

"I suppose I could handle that," Erik said thoughtfully

"Splendid! Now if we could just find-"

"Christine!" Danielle called, waving over the crowd, "Christine!"

"Yes, Miss Daae," Charles laughed, "and there she is."

Erik looked up to see Christine and Meg both pushing their way through the crowd. They both looked slightly flushed, but Christine smiled at them none the less, brushing a strand of hair back over her shoulder.

"Oh hello," she said a bit breathlessly, "I forgot that you were coming. I hope you enjoyed the performance."

"It was wonderful!' Charles exclaimed, kissing both their hands, "and you, Mademoiselle Giry, did a splendid job."

Meg blushed and smiled, "Thank you, Monsieur."

"Very well indeed," Erik agreed, giving her a warm smile.

"We were just about to go out for a drink at the nearby café," Charles informed them, "Miss Daae, we were wondering if you wanted to come with us. Your friend is of course welcome as well, we would not want to leave anyone out."

"Thank you," Meg said, "but I'm rather tired, actually. It was very kind of you to offer though."

"That is a shame," Charles said, "Miss Daae?"

"I'd be glad to attend, if you'll just allow me a minute, I should tell my guardian."

"I can tell her," Meg offered, "its no problem, really."

'Thank you, Meg," she said, "and you did dance amazingly."

Another small blush, "Thank you…and thank you, Monsieur et Madame for the invitation. I hope that you have a good night."

"You as well," Danielle smiled.

Meg quickly pushed her way back through the crowd, leaving the four of them alone. Christine watched her go with a smile, she really was proud of her friend, and it was nice to hear others compliment her as well.

"Well, shall we be off?" Charles asked.

"Oh, just let me get my cloak?" Christine asked.

"Of course, I'll just summon the carriage," Charles said, "Sabina, why don't you go with Miss Daae and then meet us out front?"

Erik gave a small nod and followed Christine through the crowds to the dressing room. Once there he waited for her to retrieve her cloak. They then made their way back through the thrum of people and towards the front doors.

"I'm glad you came," she said softly.

"As am I," he said, a small smile playing on his lips, "you and Meg danced beautifully."

"Thank you," Christine smiled, "I'm so proud of her, she worked really hard to get this."

"I always knew that she would go far," Erik said thoughtfully, "she dances just as well as her mother."

Christine smiled faintly, "Was Madame a good dancer?"

"Yes," Erik answered, "she was an amazing dancer, just as you are an amazing singer."

She might have blushed, but as he said that they exited into the dark. He immediately spotted the carriage and led her over to it, helping her in before following suite.

* * *

The café was crowded, but not overly so. They managed to find a booth and ordered hot chocolates due to the bitter wind that blew outside. It whipped the snow up from the ground outside their window, making it look as if there were a squall outside. 

"Well, here is to a wonderful performance and night out," Charles said, holding up his mug.

"Hear, hear," Erik humoured him.

"Hear, hear," Danielle and Christine both chimed.

They all sipped their drinks quietly as people talked around them. Even Charles managed to stay quiet for a good five minutes, simply enjoying the company and his drink.

"I must say," he finally said, "that this had turned out to be a lovely evening. I wasn't so sure when we picked up Sabina, he seemed to be in a foul mood then."

"Hmm, perhaps I expected to worst," Erik muttered, "when I should have tried to look forward to the evening."

"It's always better to look on the bright side of things," Danielle said.

"I suppose that I have simply become used to looking at things in a negative context," Erik sighed, "if you don't look forward to something, then you cannot be disappointed and you will not get hurt."

"True," Christine said, "but I think that sometimes it's worth it to take the risk."

"I agree with Miss Daae there," Charles nodded.

Erik gave a small smile, "Yes, I suppose that is true."

They finished their drinks and quickly got back into the carriage, not wanting to spend any time in the bitter wind. Then it was just a short carriage ride to Erik's house.

"Well, I had a good time," he admitted.

"Splendid, I hope to see you again soon, Sabina," Charles said, shaking his hand, "I wish to discuss some designs with you, for my summer home."

"Of course," Erik laughed.

"Take care of yourself," Danielle said, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

"I will," he said, still amused by the way she cared for his health. He then turned to Christine, "once again, you danced beautifully, my dear. Good night."

"Thank you," Christine said softly. She then leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, "and god night."

Erik smiled at her and dares to steal a quick kiss on the lips, "I hope to see you again soon."

He then slipped out of the carriage and into the dark, leaving Christine blushing in the dark. A few seconds later the carriage jerked forwards towards her house. It was a short ride and silent.

"Thank you for inviting me with you," she said once the carriage had stopped, "I hope to see you both again some time."

"If we are ever in the theatre," Charles assured her, "good night, Miss Daae."

"Yes, and I shall have to invite you for tea again," Danielle smiled, giving her a small hug, "good night."

* * *

Christine said one more good night before hurrying into the house. It was no surprise to her that Antoinette was still awake, so she said a quick good night and hurried up to bed. What did surprise her was to find Meg still awake, as her friend hurried out of her room to meet her in the hall. 

"I thought you'd be asleep," Christine said, "I hope I wasn't too noisy."

"No," Meg said, "I just wanted to say good night, and see if you had a good time."

"I did," Christine said, "but now I'm tired, and you must be too. We should really get to sleep. Good night, Meg."

"Good night," she said.

"Oh, and I have to tell you again how well you did tonight…Erik thought so too. He told me that you have a lot of talent, just like Madame."

Meg blushed, "He really said that?"

"Yes, and he meant it."

"Wow, I guess I should be really flattered, being complimented by the once infamous Opera Ghost."

Christine gave a small laugh and stifled a yawn, "Yes, I guess so."

"Good night, Christine," Meg said, giving her friend a small hug.

"Night," Christine said, returning the hug before going into her room.

Once inside she let out a heavy sigh and changed into her nightgown. The night had gone well, she thought, and hoped for another chance to see Erik again soon. It was almost strange to be out with him like that, in public with friends around them, but she liked it and somehow she knew that it would all work out in the end.

* * *

**A/N: My laziness is amazing (like seriously), I've been sitting around with an idea for this chapter, but was always too lazy to actually write it down. Plus I was working on other stories, both fanfic and original. Then I realized that I never replied to any of the reviews for last chapter, so I'm just saying thanks here and please do review again, hopefull I won't be as lazy. Once again, I'm just lazy. Anywho, hope you enjoyed. **


	50. L

**L**

**

* * *

**_Just a little warning, things get a tad...shall we say "heated" in this chapter...nothing really explicit, but I figured a warning mightt be needed just in case. So yeah, read it, enjoy it, review it, yell at me for taking so long to update. I really did mean to update sooner but I have had like no will to write lately...at all. I think I've added bits onto this chapter every day this week, but kept deleting stuff cause I didn't like it, blah, blah, blah. So hopefully it turned out well. It wasn't edited too well either, expect for spelling and grammar check, for fear of me going "I hate it all!" and deleting it (I've done that before). But I will stop talking now so you can read the actual chapter. So, yeah...read it!_

* * *

Meg tilted her head as she looked at Christine's reflection in the mirror. Her friend was carefully applying a touch of make-up while Meg finished pinning up her curls. Christine smiled lightly and touched the simple gold chain that hung around her neck. 

"Are you nervous?" Meg asked.

"No," Christine answered. Truthfully she had always been more nervous when going out to dinner with Raoul. It had always seemed like people were judging her, especially within his family.

"That's good," Meg said thoughtfully, "you look beautiful!"

Christine laughed, "Oh, Meg, I don't know what I'd do without you."

She gave a small laugh, "Come on, you should get down to the parlour to wait."

Christine nodded her head and slowly made her way down to the parlour. Antoinette was sitting in it, working on a piece of needlework. She glanced up as Christine entered and set the small embroidery down.

"Are you ready?" she asked as Christine sat down.

"Yes," she answered.

"Now, remember what I have told you, my dear," she said in a motherly tone, "be careful and take it slow, but have fun."

Christine nodded her head vaguely, "I know."

Antoinette sighed and grasped the young woman's hand in her own, "I just want you to be safe and happy."

"I know," Christine said, smiling at her guardian.

Antoinette patted her hand and stood up as a knock sounded from the door. She went o answer it, leaving Christine sitting in the parlour. A moment later Erik appeared in the doorway before Christine went to greet him. He kissed her hand while Antoinette fetched her cloak for her.

"I trust that you do not need a chaperone?" Antoinette said teasingly.

Erik frowned slightly before a small smile crept onto his lips, "I do not believe that one will be necessary."

"I should hope not," Antoinette said, patting his forearm gently, "I hope that the two of you will have a good time, and that you, Monsieur, will have her back at a decent hour."

"I will do my best," he assured her, before opening the door.

Antoinette watched them exit the house and as Erik helped Christine into the waiting carriage. It was so surreal, to see him above ground and partaking in something any normal man would. To be going out to dinner, to be courting someone. Still, she was wary about it all, after all she had seen Erik's darker side, and knew where it could lead.

"Maman?" Meg asked from the stairs.

"They just left," Antoinette answered before Meg could ask.

"Then we should have supper too," Meg said.

"I agree," Antoinette nodded, turning to face her daughter, "come now, there is stew in the kitchen, it will be nice on such a chill night."

It was a strange meal, quiet and awkward but at the same time comfortable. Erik ate very little, and seemed to be uncomfortable in the public place, but managed to hold up a quiet and casual conversation. It was sweet. He spoke of the theatre, and asked her how things were, complimented her on her dress and how beautiful she looked.

""It was a lovely dinner," Christine said, as the cold air slapped her face upon exiting the restaurant.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Christine," he murmured, opening the carriage door for her.

She climbed in and a moment later they were both encompassed in the dark box. Christine smiled as the carriage jolted forward, "It's almost a shame to end this so soon."

She couldn't see his face in the dark, but heard him shift slightly, "Yes, it would be."

"Perhaps…maybe we could go to your place for a bit?"

"Perhaps," he answered warily, "for tea?"

Christine suppressed a small laugh, "It's a bit late for that, but I'd love to."

* * *

He did make tea, quite to Christine's surprise, and poured her a cup. He handed it to her, a faint smile on his lips, "It isn't as strong as last time." 

"Oh," she murmured, "thank you."

He settled back into his chair and sipped his tea, watching her over the brim of his cup. Christine took a tentative sip from her own cup and smiled before placing it on the coffee table in front of her. She then turned to look out the window and her eyes widened slightly at the snow swirling outside.

"Its snowing rather hard," Erik commented, glancing out the window as well, "I didn't think that it would today…"

"Its pretty," Christine murmured, watching as the snow whirled around outside the window, "kind of magical, in a way."

She turned to look at Erik, a small smile playing on her lips. He gave a small nod, "I suppose so."

She stood up and walked over to the window to get a better look at the snow giving a small gasp when Erik came up behind her. The white mask reflected brightly in the dark window. She found herself leaning back into him, taking comfort in his warm presence and the fact that he did not pull away from her. Instead he leaned in, and she could feel his hot breath on her neck and tried to suppress a shudder, turning her head slightly to look at him.

His head dipped again and she could feel his lips graze her skin. She turned around to face him and he looked at her through half lidded eyes, his lips parted slightly. She could feel his hot breath on her face and gave a small gasp when he pressed his lips to hers, responding eagerly and loosely grasping the front of his shirt. She felt his tongue part her lisp and let out a small moan as a wave of heat washed over her. She felt his hands resting heavily on her shoulder; fingers curled around them slightly, and couldn't help but gasp and pull back slightly when his hips brushed against her lightly.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, "I-I'm sorry…"

He shook his head, "No, do not apologise."

She smiled and brushed her hand across his cheek, "It's just…I was told…that we should take things slowly. That I should take things slowly," she murmured. Then she stretched up and kissed him, revelling in the small noise he made when she flicked her tongue over his lips. She drew back slowly, smiling when he leaned in after her, "but I don't think that I want that anymore."

* * *

Everything seemed to happen too quickly then. Christine fumbled to tug his shirt out of his pants, and his fingers wrestled with the buttons on her dress, and the hooks and lace of the corset. They ended up in the bedroom, though how Christine did not know. It wasn't until she felt the backs of her knees knock against the bed that she truly realised where they were. She gave a small gasp as they gave way and forced her to sit on the bed, Erik following her down and sitting on the bed beside her. 

Christine gave a small moan as he kissed her neck, and slid onto his lap, causing him to give a sharp intake of breath. This only made her smile and she slid her hand down to his stomach, causing him to shudder. She managed to steal a kiss then, as his hands gripped her shoulders tightly. She heard him whisper her name and felt his hand slide down to her hips through her thin chemise.

"Erik," she gasped, pulling away from his eager kiss, "I don't think…"

His grip tightened slightly but he stopped, his shoulders rising and falling heavily. She watched as he jaw clenched, his eyes shut tightly. When his grip loosened she shifted over to the bed beside him, watching as he tried to regain some composure. With a shaky breath he ran his hands through his hair. For a moment he clasped his hands tightly between his legs, resting his head on his forearms, before sitting up again.

"I apologise," he said quietly, his voice rough and hoarse, "I shouldn't have-"

"No," Christine interrupted, waiting her own pulse to quiet, "it was as much my fault."

He didn't speak for a moment and when he did he sounded tired, "Perhaps that was taking things too quickly…"

Christine gave a small shrug and looked over at him. His eyes almost glowed in the darkness, despite the fact that they were half lidded and darkened with passion. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, "Maybe…"

He turned to look at her then, the white mask glinting in the darkness. With a small smile she brushed the back of her hand against the cool surface before slowly removing it. She couldn't help but kiss him when he didn't flinch or turn away, and he cupped her cheeks, deepening the kiss for a moment before drawing back. Then, with a small smirk he leaned back, falling onto the bed and taking her with him. She gave a small gasp when she landed on him and rolled off and to the side.

He hesitated for a moment before kissing her again, a slow, deep kiss that left them both breathless. He felt her hands slide under his unbuttoned shirt and around his back. She paused suddenly then, and a slight frown creased her brow before she ran her fingers over the scars that crisscrossed his back. She traced them for a moment before one hand came back around to his front, spreading over his stomach before she dipped it down and slid it just bellow the waistline of his trousers.

He gave a sharp gasp at that and she quickly reclaimed his mouth, drawing closer to him. She felt him shudder as she dipped her hand a little lower, and felt a sudden desperation in his kiss. His grip tightened on her shoulder and his chin suddenly dropped to his chest as a rough grunt escaped his throat, his breathing coming in sharp rasps. His fingers dug into her shoulders a bit more before his grip relaxed and his breathing began to calm slightly.

She drew her hand up to rest on his chest, feeling his heart hammering, and bit her lip slightly. His head stayed bowed, though she couldn't be sure why. Why he finally did raise his chin to look in her eyes she realised that it was too dark to see his face. So, she slowly raised her hand and rested it against his cheek, finding it hot beneath her touch. With a weak smile she kissed him lightly and wrapped her arm around to his back and rested her head against his chest, listening as his heartbeat and breathing returned to normal.

"Christine?" he asked softly.

"Hmm?" she replied sleepily.

"I-"

"Shhh," she murmured, "its fine…good night."

She felt him shift slightly and then felt the blankets drape over them, "Good night."

She smiled to herself and stifled a yawn," I love you."

A short pause before she felt his lips press against the top of her head, "I love you too."


	51. Part Six

Part Six

LI

Christine blinked groggily and took in a deep breath, clinging to the last remnants of sleep as the sun slowly warmed the room. With a small yawn she shifted, freezing when she felt her elbow come in contact with something, then smiling to herself and rolling over to face Erik's back.

At some point during the night he had shed the thin white shirt and she could now see the many scars that crisscrossed his back. Some of them were larger than others, some barely noticeable. One traced from the middle of his back and around his side.

She didn't know how long he would sleep. She was used to waking early to go to the theatre, but for some reason he didn't seem like the sort to rise before noon. Actually, in all truth, he didn't seem like the type to sleep at all. With a small sigh she moved forwards a bit and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, feeling him stir and hearing him give a groggy groan.

"Hmm?" he breathed, frowning slightly before opening his eyes, "how long have you been awake?"

"Not long," she murmured, "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you."

He shook his head and gave a heavy sigh, "No, its fine."

She gave a small laugh as she watched him trying to shake the final remnants of sleep, not too successfully she noted. He finally shifted, turning over to face her, he eyes still half lidded and his hair tousled from sleep.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she said a bit guiltily.

"It's fine," he reiterated, brushing a curl from her shoulder, "are you hungry?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "A little, I guess."

She smiled and sat up, rolling his neck to work out the kinks and yawning widely, "Then-mmm, then I'll make some breakfast."

She watched as he sat up completely, draping his legs over the side of the bed before picking his shirt up. He tossed it onto a wooden chair in the corner of the room and was about to get up when he paused and a quiet "oh" escaped his throat.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No," he answered, rising from the bed and searching through the wardrobe. She didn't see exactly what he took, but could make an assumption. He left the room fairly quickly, grabbing a mask on the way out and pausing at the door, "You can dress in here, I'll start on breakfast."

"Alright," she said, waiting until he left to start gathering her clothes from the floor.

* * *

It was strange; all that he could think about as he changed was that Antoinette would surely kill him. With a small sigh he ran a hand through his hair and made his way to the kitchen. He was suddenly quite happy that his maid was not coming until later that day. It would avoid a whole slew of questions that he did not want to answer. 

He only made a simple breakfast, bread with preserves and a bit of cheese, he never ate in the mornings, so he couldn't be entirely sure whether it would be enough, but figured he could make something else if it was needed. Christine entered the kitchen humming softly to herself, a smile gracing her features when she saw the breakfast.

"It isn't much," he said.

"Its fine," she said, "its what I'd have back at home."

"Would you like some tea?" he asked, taking the kettle off the stove, "or coffee?"

"Tea," she said, wrinkling her nose a bit, "coffee is too bitter."

"Hmm, I prefer it," he said, taking a tea cup out of the cupboard.

Christine smeared a small bit of jam on bread while he finished making the tea. When done he placed the cup on the table and sat down opposite her. She murmured a thank you before nibbling on her bread, waiting to see if he would take anything. He didn't though, just watched her while she ate, occasionally sipping a cup of coffee.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked after a while.

"No," he answered simply, "are you finished?"

"Yes," she answered, "but are you sure? You should really eat something."

"I'll be fine," he said, cleaning up the plates, "besides, we should really be returning you to your house. I am sure that by now Madame Giry will be ready to skin me alive, don't you?"

Christine gasped as a blush crept across her cheeks, "Oh dear!"

Erik simply smiled, "Do not worry, the weather was bad last night, I am sure that we can use that to our advantage."

"But she will be angry," Christine murmured.

Erik just kissed her hand, "I will summon a cab. Wait here."

Christine nodded her head and waited as he went to find a cab, wandering into the parlour to sit on the sofa. While there, however, she was drawn to the desk in the corner, which was littered with papers, sketches and writing and drawing utensils. She smiled a bit, it hadn't changed much since the last time she had seen it. There were sketched of random objects; a skull here and a rose there, but there were also detailed floor plans and house designs. The one on top was particularly beautiful, and she shifted through the sketches of the different rooms, marvelling at them.

"Do you like it?" Erik asked, causing her to jump.

"Oh! I didn't hear you come in," she gasped, "and yes, it's gorgeous. Who is it for?"

"No one," he shrugged, "I suppose that I could sell the designs, or have it built and then sell it."

"It really is gorgeous," she murmured.

Erik simply smiled, taking the designs from her and placing them back on the desk, "Then perhaps I will build it some day...come, the cab is waiting."

The short drive to her house was quiet, and Christine found herself constantly worrying over what would happen when she returned. Antoinette would be angry, she expected that much, though how angry she did not know. She glanced over at Erik, who seemed perfectly calm despite the situation. Maybe that was a good thing.

The carriage jolted to a stop and Erik climbed out, offering Christine his hand, which she took gratefully. Once out she straightened her skirts and walked up to the door, Erik following closely behind her. With a quick intake of breath she opened it and stepped into the front hall.

"I-I'm home!" she called weakly, slipping her cloak off and hanging it up by the door, "Madame?"

She poked her head into the parlour and bit her lip nervously when she saw Antoinette sitting there, working on a piece of needlework. She could feel Erik come to stand behind her but didn't look away from her guardian.

"Christine," Antoinette said, "perhaps you could go and get changed, I wish to speak with Erik for a moment."

Christine nodded her head and slipped out of the doorway, allowing Erik to go and sit down. She went up to her room quickly, not bothering to try and catch the beginning of their conversation.

Erik sat down opposite Antoinette, leaning back easily in the chair while waiting for her to speak.

"I do not know where to begin," she said at length, putting her needlework aside, "perhaps I should start by having you tell me what happened last night, hmm?"

"Nothing," he stated calmly, maintaining eye contact, "we went out to dinner, the weather turned bad and could not return here. I am sure that you will agree that it would have been unsafe to travel in last nights conditions. We returned to my house, Antoinette."

"And that is all?" she asked.

"That is all," he reiterated.

Antoinette sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples firmly, "I will choose to believe you, Erik. I will choose to believe that you simply returned to your house because of bad weather, that when there you acted as the gentleman I know you can be and that you did nothing to harm her."

"I would never-" he bit back on the anger that rose inside him at those worlds and repeated it more calmly, "I would never do anything to harm her, Madame."

Antoinette watched as his anger flared and then was quashed, "You have certainly changed, Erik, I remember when that temper of your used to all but control you."

He leaned back in the chair slightly and gave a small laugh, "I suppose I have."

"It is a good thing."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Now, tell me honestly, did anything happen last night?"

"Nothing that you need to be concerned over," he answered truthfully.

"I am glad to hear that. Would you care to stay for tea?"

"No, I should be going, Madame, but thank you for the offer," he said, getting up from the chair.

"Not even going to say goodbye?" Antoinette asked.

"I have every intention of it," Erik said, turning as Christine entered the room, "good bye, Christine."

"Oh, you're leaving?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Oh…well, there's a performance in three days. Meg and I will be in it, so if you'd like to come then-"

"I would be delighted," he interrupted, "au revoir."

Christine watched as he slipped out of the room, and listened as the front door opened and closed. She then turned to Antoinette and smiled weakly before sitting down opposite her. Antoinette picked her needlework back up and gave a small chuckle, "So, my dear, what happened last night?"

"Oh…nothing," she murmured, giving a small shrug of her shoulders, "the weather was bad, that's all, so I stayed at his house."

* * *

**A/N: Oooh, an update! What a strange and shocking thing to see...yeah, anyone remember when I used to do this often? No? Well I did! Hope you enjoyed the chapter and please leave me a review, for I do love them so.**


	52. LII

LII

The maid poked her head into the parlour, a frown knitting her brow, "Will you answer the door, or must I do it?"

Erik glared at her and lowered the violin from his chin before storming out into the hall and to the front door, where someone was banging their fist yet again. He didn't really see the point in answering it if he didn't want to see who was on the other side, but it was better than having them stand there for another ten minutes pounding on it.

"Yes?" he asked curtly, tugging the door open to see Charles on the other side.

"Splendid, you are home!" Charles said, stepping into the hall.

"What do you want, Armand?" Erik asked, stepping back as the young man hurried forward and into his parlour, "Armand?"

"I have just purchased a lovely plot of land," Charles said, sitting in the armchair and beaming at Erik as the other man set the violin down, "its perfect, Sabina, truly perfect. It's by the sea, not a terribly large property, but still quite nice. It will be the perfect place to build a summer home, and I simply had to tell you about it, couldn't wait, you know?"

"I can't say that I do," Erik sighed, resigning himself to a long visit.

"Well, I simply had to come and see you, prayed that you would be home actually, after all who better to build my home than the best architect in all of France, hmm?" he asked.

"Your enthusiasm quite overwhelms me," Erik sighed, "you came all the way out here to simply tell me about a plot of land that you have purchased and to ask me to design a house for you?"

"Well…not entirely," he said, clasping his hands together nervously, "though that was part of it, I can assure you. After all, as I said-"

"What else, Armand?" Erik interrupted.

"I really just needed to get out of the house for a bit," he sighed, "it sounds terrible, I know, but Danielle has been…oh I don't really know how to describe it. Moody, I guess, a bit like you actually. Content one moment and then grumpy or weepy the next. I love her dearly, but I've been working a lot lately and…well."

"Ah," Erik said, "I see."

"Yes, so, I hope that I haven't inconvenienced you."

"Actually I was going to the bank," Erik said, taking the violin and placing it back in its case, "I have an appointment in half an hour."

"The bank?" Charles asked, "Have you gotten a new commission?"

"No, I am interested in purchasing some land," Erik replied, taking his jacket off the back of the desk chair.

"For yourself?"

"Who else, Armand?"

"Why would you need land?"

Erik suppressed a sigh and ground his teeth together, "Armand, that is really none of your concern. Perhaps I wish to build a house, hmm? Or perhaps I simply wish to own it. There are countless reasons for me to be purchasing land. Now, if you don't mind I have to be going."

"Yes, quite right," Charles said, though he lingered, "but…"

"But what, Armand?" Erik snapped.

"Maybe I could go with you. After all, how much experience do you have in dealing with banks or buying land? Then we could go out for lunch after, do a bit of catching up, hmm?"

Erik took a deep breath and smoothed back his hair with one hand, "Fine."

* * *

Charles did prove to be an asset at the bank, for the young man was a much more patient man than Erik, as well as a savvy business man. He obviously dealt with banks and the purchasing and selling of land, and could easily negotiate a price where Erik would have simply paid them. He supposed it was a good thing to save money, though he really didn't need to, and allowed Charles to show off his knowledge and skills. 

"Well, that went well," Charles said cheerfully as they descended the steps of the bank, "so, are you hungry, Sabina?"

"Not particularly," Erik muttered.

"Well then, why don't we look at a few shops before we go to lunch? I have been meaning to buy something for Danielle, just a little gift you know?"

"Yes," Erik sighed, "where?"

"Well there is a jewellery store nearby; perhaps I could find a nice necklace there. Come, Sabina."

Erik just frowned and followed Charles into the crowds and towards the jewellery store. Sometimes he truly believed that not having friends could definitely be a benefit in one's life. But then again, there were worse places in the world than jewellery stores.

* * *

"What do you think of this one, Sabina?" Charles asked, pointing to a gold chain adorned with a little diamond heart. 

Erik shrugged his shoulders," It's nice."

"You're no help," Charles grumbled.

Erik suppressed a snort and glanced over at a display of rings. There were so many of them, diamonds, sapphires, pearls and rubies, all glistening in the light on their respective bands.

"Looking at the rings, Sabina?" Charles asked.

"Hmm, I suppose so," he shrugged.

"I like the diamond one, in the right corner," Charles said, "or the one with the pearl."

"The ruby," Erik said, "second row and three from the left."

"That is nice," Charles agreed, "you have an eye for jewellery."

"I will take that as a compliment," Erik said, "have you decided yet?"

"Well, it's between the one with the diamond heart and the pearl one…though that one broach was nice as well and then there were the earrings."

Erik rolled his eyes and went back to looking at the rings, tuning out Charles' babble about the pros and cons of each of the choices. Instead, he focussed on the ruby ring. It wasn't complex, just a simple gold band with a well placed gem, but he liked it. It wasn't gaudy or garish like some of the other rings, just elegant and pretty.

"Sabina?" Charles's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"I've narrowed it down to the earrings or the heart necklace," he said."

Erik turned to look at him with disinterest. He really didn't care which one he bought, "The necklace."

"Do you think?" Charles asked.

"I know," Erik said firmly, "buy it and be done with it."

"Well, if you are so confident then I'll buy the necklace. Then we can go to lunch, I would like to talk to you about designing my new house, after all."

"Splendid," Erik sighed, pulling his watch out of his pocket and glancing at it.

* * *

**A/N: Its short, and kind of pointless, but I'm in such a totally awesome mood that I had to update something! March break starts tomorrow and I am so hyped, because its gonna start with a bang! Tonight (or tomorrow morning) at midnight I am seeing the premier of "300", then I'm seeing "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat" on saturday, then next wednesday I'm seeing "Phantom of the Opera" in Toronto, then its my friend's birthday and then mine, plus Dead Silence will be coming out and Hills Have Eyes 2...wow, this month could not get any better...so much happy my head might explode! Okay, now that that's done (I just had to get it out) please review and I hope you enjoyed the chapter...SQUEE!**


	53. LIII

**LIII**

**

* * *

**_Warning: if you haven't already noticed I have changed the rating of my story from T to M. Now, it may not be an entirely neccessary change, but better safe than sorry, no? Yeah so, "why has she done this?" you might be asking, adn the answer is simple: sexual content. Perhaps not good sexual content or particualrly explicit sexual content. But it is there. If you are uncomfortabel with this then skip the chapter, you won't miss too much, so don't worry._**

* * *

**

Christine slumped onto the bench in the change room and started to untie the ribbons of her shoes. Meg flopped down beside her with a heavy sigh and started to do the same.

"Good performance, I'd say," Meg said cheerfully, shoving her shoes into her satchel, "wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," Christine agreed, tugging her churls back into a ponytail.

"I'm tired though," Meg added a bit dramatically.

"Me too," Christine agreed, "come on, let's go home and get something to eat."

"Sounds great," Meg said, pulling her hair back and wrapping it up into a bun, "I'm starved, let's go!"

Christine laughed and quickly followed her friend out of the dressing room while shoving her thin gauze shirt into the satchel, "Meg, wait up."

"Oh, you're so slow," Meg teased, "come on."

Christine jogged to catch up to her friend, still trying to stuff the shirt from her costume into the bag, "Oh…wait, Meg I forgot something. Go ahead, I'll just go back and get it."

"Sure," Meg said, "but hurry up, or I'll leave without you."

Christine just shook her head as her friend pushed out of the small hall and into the crowd of people beyond. She then turned and started back down the hall to the dressing room; she was nearly there too, when a pair of cold hands grabbed her and pulled her into a dark side-hall. For a moment fear coursed through her, quickly replaced by a thrill when warm lips grazed her neck and a sultry voice filled her ears.

"You were beautiful tonight," Erik whispered.

She turned around to face him and saw the smirk playing on his lips in the darkness. With a smile of her own she kissed those lips, "You frightened me."

"I apologise," he said, leaning in for another kiss.

"I have to get going," Christine said, placing a hand on his chest, "Meg is waiting for me."

He made a small noise of disappointment, "Very well then, you should not keep her waiting."

"Come with me," she said, taking his hand and leading him back into the hall, "I just need to get something."

* * *

Erik waited in the hall while she dashed into the change room and retrieved the shoes that she had forgotten. She then came out and started to walk down the hall, taking his hand gently and leading him to the large crowd in the front. Once there she released him, allowing him to follow her through the crowd to where Meg was waiting by the door.

"Ah, good evening, Monsieur," Meg greeted him, "did you enjoy the performance?"

"Very much so," Erik replied, "it was splendid, I am glad that I was able to attend."

"And why wouldn't you have been able to come?" Christine asked.

"Armand," Erik answered flatly, "he has been haunting my house for the past two days. The man is truly a nuisance."

"Why has he been at your house?" Christine asked, furrowing her brow in thought.

"He claims that it is for business. He has purchased some new land and wants me to design a house for him, that and he wishes to avoid his own home."

"Why would he want to do that?" Christine asked, "He and Danielle aren't fighting, are they?"

"He says that she has been disagreeable as of late…temperamental or some such thing," he gave a wry chuckle, "he claims that she has been acting like me."

Meg gave a small laugh, "Well, then I can see why he would wish to get away, non?"

"Amusing," Erik replied dryly, "I cannot truly see them ever having a real disagreement though. This little…whatever you would call it, will pass quickly I am certain. Until then, however, I have to suffer through Armand's company."

"It can't be all that bad," Meg offered, "I mean, he is your friend, is he not?"

"Hmm, and a devil of a friend at that," Erik sighed, "do not get me wrong, I do enjoy Armand's company, but it is best experienced in small doses."

Christine laughed and touched his arm sympathetically, "He isn't so bad. Monsieur Armand is a very kind man."

Erik nodded his head, "Yes, too kind for his own good. But I am keeping you, am I not? I should let you go; you must be tired after such a long night."

"Exhausted," Meg laughed, "but it was nice to see you again, Monsieur."

Actually…Meg, could I talk to you for a minute?" Christine asked, taking her friend a few feet away.

"What is it?" Meg asked.

"Well…I was thinking that maybe…I could go to supper with Erik," Christine said, biting her lip nervously, "unless you wouldn't feel comfortable being home alone, with Madame away and all."

"No its fine," Meg assured her.

"Are you certain, Meg?" Christine asked, "Because I don't want-"

"I'll be fine!" Meg laughed, "go out to supper if you want, I can take a cab by myself, it isn't any trouble."

"You're sure?" Christine checked.

"Positive. Go out to supper, I'll be going to bed almost the instant I get home anyways. Well, after a bite to eat myself."

"Thank you, Meg. You're a great friend," Christine said, giving her a quick hug.

"I hope you remember that when it's my birthday," Meg teased as they walked back over to Erik.

"Erik, perhaps you and I could go to supper?" Christine asked.

"Perhaps," he said, nodding his head slowly, "but I would not want to seem rude to Mademoiselle Giry."

"Not at all," Meg assured him, "I'm tired anyways, I'd rather just go home and rest. Speaking of which, I could find a cab then."

"Are you sure, Meg?" Christine asked.

"Mmm hmm, I'll just go find a cab, it'll be fine," she answered.

"At least allow us to take you home," Erik said, "it isn't entirely safe to be out alone in the dark."

"Alright," Meg shrugged, "but I would be fine by myself."

"Ah, but your mother would be upset," Erik said, "and I am fairly certain that you do not want that."

"Oh, she's away for two days," Meg shrugged, leading the way outside, "something about an old friend being sick and going to visit."

"How unfortunate," Erik murmured, summoning a cab for them.

The drive from the theatre to the house took longer than usual for all the traffic after the performance, but Meg managed to keep up a cheerful conversation through it. Once there she bid Erik good night and dashed into the house. Once she was gone Christine smiled and leaned over to give Erik a quick kiss.

"Where to now?" he asked, "was there a restaurant you had in mind?"

"Hmm," she sighed, "I'm not sure if I want to go to a busy, noisy restaurant. I'm not really that hungry anymore…maybe we could go to your place?"

A smirk claimed Erik's lips and he nodded his head, "Maybe we could."

* * *

Erik had barely closed the door when Christine' arm went around his neck and she claimed his mouth in a deep, suffocating kiss. He had to pull away first, breathing heavily and giving her a somewhat perplexed look. She just smiled and kissed him again, grabbing the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer and slowly leading him to the bedroom.

Too many layers, she decided, as she pushed off his jacket only to reveal the waistcoat beneath. She could feel his fingers on her back, working clumsily to undo her bodice, and cursed her own clumsiness at untying his cravat and unbuttoning his waistcoat.

It was all too quick again, the fumbling to remove clothes, the curing of layers, lace and frills. She pushed him towards the bed, and revelled in the low sound he made when she sat on his lap, her hands lacing in his hair as she felt his tongue slide against hers.

She felt his hands slide down to her shoulders as he moved his mouth from hers, trailing kisses down her neck and then back up to her mouth. She couldn't help but gasp when she felt his hands slide down to her hips, and then felt one slowly slip under her skirt and up to the sensitive skin of her thigh. He stopped there, dark eyes meeting hers for a moment.

"Its fine," she managed to breath, feeling a lick of heat when he moved his hand again.

There was more fumbling as he removed her corset and slid off her skirt. She tugged his shirt out of his trousers and it was quickly discarded. More fevered kisses and roaming hands. There was a desperate want that developed into a need as clothes were shed. There seemed to be a coil inside her that wound tighter and tighter as he trailed kisses down her neck. She gave a low moan when his hips brushed against hers and she slid her hand down to the hem of his trousers.

"Christine," he breathed, pulling back slightly as her fingers worked awkwardly on the button of his trousers.

She felt him shudder when she managed to undo it, and it gave her a small thrill to hear his groan when she slipped her hand inside slightly, before reaching up and grasping his shoulders, pulling his down for another kiss. She slid them back down again and, though rather clumsily, the pants were removed as well.

They were too impatient then, the barriers were gone and there seemed to be no turning back. The strange and new sensations of skin against skin, a burning desire fuelled by hot kisses and curiosity. There was something that could have been pain, but Christine could not be sure. She heard him cry out, felt his body shudder and felt the tightness inside her self finally give way.

They lay tangled in the bed after, breathing hard, the blankets twisted around them. Neither would be able to call the experience truly pleasurable, it had been too quick and desperate for that. Christine made a noise in her throat when she felt the bed shift and the warmth of Erik's body disappear. A moment later cool fabric brushed her skin, as he draped one of his shirts over her shoulders.

She rolled over slightly and smiled tiredly in the dark, slipping her arms through the sleeves. He lay down beside her again, and wrapped his arms around her, breathing into her hair. It felt right, she decided, to have his arms around her and his body pressed up against her. And it would get better, she imagined, there wouldn't always be the pain or the awkward fumbling.

"Erik?" she asked softly, wondering if he had fallen asleep.

"Hmm?"

"Never mind," she murmured, "good night."

"Good night," he mumbled his voice heavy with sleep, "I love you."

She smiled to herself at that, "I love you too."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, so hope you liked the chapter...meant to update sooner but life got in the way. Oh yeah, and I saw Phantom today...er, yesterday (as it is 3:00 a.m. now) and it was amazing! Really, I'd see it like twelve more times if I could afford it. If you ever get the chance to see it on stage do, even if you have to sell a kidney on the black market or something. Completely and totally worth it! Also, never watch ten hours straight of Phantom movies...first of all mst of them aren't that good, adn second of all they will drive you insane. So, with that wonderful advice, please review and don't criticise me too much on the chapter...please.**


	54. LIV

LIV

Christine shifted uncomfortably and frowned slightly. She shifted again, not wanting the remnants of sleep to leave her. But it was inevitable, and with a small sigh she glanced over her shoulder and then slowly rolled over. He was facing her still, eyes closed and face peaceful. She reached out and brushed his hair away from his face, freezing when a frown creased his brow and he shifted.

He didn't wake though, and the frown quickly softened. It wasn't surprising really; the only light in the room was the pale blush of dawn. He looked so content when he was asleep; his features seemed softer and unguarded.

She shifted away from him slowly, trying not to disturb him as she rose from the bed. Again a slight frown creased his brow, but he didn't wake. Slowly she collected her clothes from the floor, gathering them together and slowly getting dressed. It wasn't until she had finished that he awoke, blinking groggily in the dim light.

"Hmm?" he groaned, sitting up and frowning at her.

"Its morning," she said a bit sheepishly.

The frown didn't disappear immediately; he continued to stare at her with confused eyes. Then, slowly, it seemed to dawn on him and she watched as his eyes widened in realization. Christine gave a little, awkward smile and went to sit back on the bed again. Erik shifted a bit awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair with a small sigh.

"What time is it?" he asked, turning his head to look out the window.

"I don't know, the sun was just coming up," she answered, giving a small laugh at his small groan, "I was trying not to wake you."

He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth as he tried to stifle a yawn, "Its fine…"

"Maybe…I'll let you get dressed," she said, a slight blush colouring her cheeks, "umm, I could make some tea…"

"Right," he sighed, "tea would be fine."

* * *

Erik waited until she was gone to get up, even then watching the door. He gathered fresh clothes from the wardrobe and dressed quickly, kicking his clothes from the night before into the corner. He could hear Christine in the kitchen, singing to herself. He grabbed a mask as he left the room, not bothering to put it on and leaving his hair unkempt as he went out to the kitchen. 

Christine smiled at him as he entered the kitchen and he couldn't help but smile back. She poured hot water into the teapot and placed it on the table, searching for the cups.

"In here," Erik said, reaching past her to open one of the cupboards.

"Oh," she said, "thank you."

He kissed her cheek and placed the cups on the table, "Good morning."

She gave a little laugh and took the mask from his hand, placing it on the table, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," he answered, running his fingers over the scowling features of the mask.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, looking around the kitchen again.

"No," he answered.

"Me either," she murmured, pouring the tea, "here."

He took the cup and placed it on the table, "What song were you singing?"

"Oh, its just an old folksong my father taught me," she said, "I don't even know what its called…you could hear me then?"

He nodded, "Yes, it was lovely."

"I'm out of practice," she argued, "I rarely have the chance to sing anymore."

"Yes, but you still have the most beautiful voice I have ever heard," he said, swallowing his entire cup of tea in one gulp.

She blushed and smiled, "Would you like more tea?"

He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, "No, thank you."

She nodded her head and took a small sip of her own. Then she gave a small gasp and her head shot up, eyes wide, "Meg will wonder where I've been, she'll be worried! I have to go! "

She quickly finished her tea and placed the cup on the table with a small chink. She then hurried towards the door, stopping when Erik's hand closed around her wrist, "Wait one moment, I will take you."

She nodded her head and waited impatiently while he snatched his mask from the table and put it on. She expected him to get a jacket but he didn't bother, something that she was glad for.

"I'm sorry," she said as they walked quickly towards her house, "I don't mean to rush."

"Its fine," he assured her, "I would not want you to worry your friend."

Once at her house Christine stopped on the doorstep, stealing quick kiss, "Maybe I should go in by myself."

"Of course," he said, "whatever you want."

She smiled and claimed another quick kiss before opening the door, "Good bye, Erik."

"Until later," he said, waiting until the door was closed to turn and retrace his steps back to his house.

Christine closed the door quietly and bit her lip, jumping when she turned around to Meg watching her from the stairs, "Oh! Meg, you startled me."

"Where have you been?" Meg asked, "you never came home last night, Christine, I was worried sick."

"I'm sorry, Meg, I…I was…" she trailed off, casting her eyes to the floor and biting her bottom lip, "I was, umm, at Erik's house."

She looked up to see Meg frowning at her, "I was worried!"

"I'm fine, Meg," Christine said.

"But I didn't know that! Anything could have happened to you. You never came home and…" she trailed off and her eyes widened, "you're blushing."

"No I'm not," Christine said hurriedly, trying to ignore the heat in her face.

"Christine…what happened, Christine?" Meg demanded.

"Nothing," she answered, "nothing happened, Meg. I'm sorry I worried you, I didn't mean to."

"You…you were with Erik?" Meg asked, and Christine could see her putting things together in her mind, "all night…you were at his house?"

"Yes," she answered in a small voice, "I-I was."

"You didn't?" she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth, "You-you did, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Christine said.

"Don't lie to me!" Meg exclaimed, "Your face is completely red and you won't even look me in the eye. You were never a good liar, Christine, and you're no better now."

Christine looked up at her friend, chewing on her lower lips and giving a sheepish smile, "I-I really didn't' mean to worry you."

Meg just stared at her for a moment, "Maman will kill you…and him. No, she'll just kill him."

"Don't tell her, Meg!" Christine exclaimed, "Oh please don't tell her!"

"So you did?" Meg asked, "You admit it. You…er…slept with him."

"Y-yes…" she said quietly, "I-er-we did…yes. Please don't tell Madame."

"I won't," Meg said quietly.

They stood there is an awkward silence, Christine chewing on her bottom lip, Meg twisting her fingers together awkwardly. Meg was the one to finally break the silence, "Umm…so…I was going to make some breakfast. Have you eaten yet?"

"No," Christine answered, "I haven't."

"Alright…bread and jam?" Meg asked, "Or we could go to the café."

"The café sounds nice," Christine answered, "I'll just go get changed."

"Right," Meg said, stepping out of her way, oh umm, Christine?"

"Yes?"

"He didn't…hurt you or anything, did he?"

"No," she answered.

"You'd tell me though, if he did?" Meg asked with entreating eyes.

Christine nodded her head, "Of course, Meg."

* * *

Erik entered his house to the sounds of the maid bustling around. He gave a slight frown when she poked her head out of the kitchen as he tried to make his way down the hall. 

"And where have you been?" she asked, giving him a once over.

"Out," he answered flatly.

"Humph, dressed like that?" she sniffed, "messy hair, no jacket or cravat…and where are you going now?"

"To bed," Erik answered.

"No you are not," she said, "it is morning, time to be up. If you have already been up long enough to have made tea and gone out then you must be ready for work."

Erik scowled but didn't bother arguing, "Fine, I will get to work then."

"And tuck in your shirt," she said, shaking her head.

Erik made a dramatic show of tucking in his shirt and going into the parlour. He then sat down at his desk, moved the papers out of his way, folded his arms and laid his head down, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Ha ha, an update! That wasn't too long, now was it? No it wasn't. And guess what? Its my birthday! Yes, I am giving you all a gift on my b-day because I am now officially an adult! W00t for being 18...so yeah. Please leave me a review, it'll be like a birthday gift. Next update should be either later today (seeing as its midnight) or tomorrow.**


	55. LV

LV

"Go home, Armand," Erik growled, striding over to his desk and tossing an envelope onto it, "or at least leave my house. I do not particularly care where you go, as long as it is not here."

Charles ignored him well, flipping through the pages of the newspaper with an impressive fake intensity. Erik gave an exasperated sigh and sat down at his desk, pushing the envelope aside and pulling the first drafts of plans towards him.

"So, how are the plans coming?" Charles asked, peeking out from behind his paper.

"They would be going better if you would stop distracting me," Erik shot back.

"Oh…well, I was just curious as to when you think we could start building," Charles continued, "and when it might be finished."

"Well you certainly could not start the building until I have finished the plans," Erik snapped, "and these are merely the first drafts. Then, if all goes according to plan and these designs do work you will need to hire workers. After that has been done the groundwork will need to be put in, and for that you will need supplies. If all the supplies arrive in a timely fashion then you will be quite fortunate, as they never seem to. Then the framework of the house must be completed and so on and so forward. All this could happen very quickly, or quite slowly depending on the weather, which is not always the best near the sea. So I cannot tell you how long it will take, Armand, for I have absolutely no idea!"

"Right," Charles murmured, "I'll just let you work then."

"Thank you," Erik muttered.

Erik managed to add a few more lines to his design, listening to the rustle of paper behind him before Charles' voice broke the silence again. He ground his teeth together forcefully and opened his mouth to tell his friend to leave when the words actually sunk in.

"What did you say?" he asked, quickly moving over to the sofa and peering at the page of the paper that Charles was reading.

"I said that the Opera Populaire is looking to reopen," Charles repeated, "its all right there. It seems that someone has expressed interest in buying the theatre and that they wish to restore it. It all seems rather-hey!"

Erik snatched the page from Charles and sat back down in the desk chair, reading and re-reading the short article on the subject. It seemed that a wealthy business man had expressed interest in purchasing the building and restoring it. It was all rumours though, no hard evidence. Erik gave a small snort and dropped the article onto the coffee table.

"Foolishness," he stated bluntly.

"You think so?" Charles asked.

"It would take thousands of dollars to repair the theatre," Erik said, "all the windows would need to be replaced; the smoke damage alone was immense. No, there is not a chance that any sane man would invest his money in such a feat."

"And what makes you say that?" Charles asked, "It might not be as bad as you think."

"There were fourteen stories in that building, Armand, and five cellars bellow ground. The theatre was immense, the grandest in all of Paris. The entire stage and auditorium would need to be rebuilt, along with most of the main floor. Not only that but every other floor would need to have restoration done, with the exception of the lower cellars, but even those would have to be checked for structural integrity. No, I can guarantee that even if someone was to take interest in purchasing the theatre they would immediately decide against it once they realised the cost of the restoration."

"Well, aren't we cynical?" Charles asked.

"I am realistic," Erik said, "besides, after everything that happened there I cannot see anyone wishing to go back."

Charles just shrugged his shoulders, "I just found it interesting and thought that you might as well."

"I do," Erik said, turning back to his work, "after all, I used to work there, in a manner of speaking."

"How interesting…oh look, my friend Laurence is engaged," Charles murmured, "how nice. You know, I never thought that he'd settle down, he was always so-"

"Armand," Erik interrupted, "as fascinating as this may seem to you, I have absolutely no interest in it."

Charles shrugged and went back to his paper as Erik plucked the envelope from the desk and stood up, crossing over to the window as he opened it. Charles looked up as his friend tugged the letter out and began to read it, raising an eyebrow when Erik gave a small laugh.

"Something funny?" he asked.

Erik waved his hand dismissively and continued to read the letter. When he was finally finished he placed it on the desk and smirked, "Well, Armand, it seems that you will have to face your wife sooner or later, for I will be leaving Paris for in a few days. As for this very minute, I have an engagement at the theatre this evening and unfortunately only have one ticket. Go home, Armand."

"You, going to the theatre?" Charles laughed, "And I am supposed to believe that?"

"Yes," Erik said, "now leave."

* * *

Christine laughed as her and Meg rushed off the stage after the final curtain call, caught up in a tide of other dancers. They eventually made it to the change room, not rushing as they knew that it would be full anyways. Once there they got changed at their own pace, trading in the thin skirts and shirts for regular street clothes. 

"So, when did maman say we were leaving again?" Meg asked, tying her hair back quickly.

"In a few days, I think," Christine shrugged, "oh, Meg, let me do that."

Her friend just laughed as Christine tied her hair back for her, "I can't wait!"

"I know, neither can I," Christine laughed.

Meg giggled as she put her shoes on and shoved the rest of her things into her satchel, "Alright, you ready?"

"I think so," Christine said, "let's go find Madame."

"She said that she'd meet us by the front doors," Meg said, "but she might not be done yet, so we might have to wait."

"That's fine," Christine said, following Meg out of the change room, "after all..."

She trailed off slightly and gave a small frown, looking over her shoulder.

"What is it?" Meg asked.

"Nothing," Christine said, shaking her head and giving a little smile, "I just thought I..."

"You what?" Meg asked.

"Heard something…" Christine murmured, "But…"

"But what?" Meg asked.

"Nothing, why don't you go on ahead, Meg? I think I left my hair clip in the change room."

Meg frowned slightly and gave her a curious look, "If you say so. I'll tell maman that you'll be along in a moment."

"Thank you," Christine said, turning and walking slowly back to the change room. Glancing over her shoulder once to ensure that Meg was gone before ducking into the dark little side-hall and smiling when she felt warm lips press against hers.

"Brava," Erik said, pulling away and smirking at her in the darkness.

She smiled back at him, stretching up to claim another kiss, letting out a small moan when he parted her lips with his tongue and backed her up against the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck then and slid her tongue into his mouth, feeling the low moan he emitted rather than hearing it. It wasn't until he pulled her closer and she felt his hips rock against hers that she made him stop, pressing a hand to his chest firmly.

"Erik…we have to stop," she breathed.

She saw him nod in the dark and heard him take a deep breath and let it out, "I apologise."

"For what?" she asked, smiling at him in the darkness, "I have to go meet Meg and Madame. You'll come?"

"Of course," he said.

"Umm, then, I'll just give you a minute," she said quietly.

* * *

A few minutes later they pushed their way to the front doors, where Meg and Antoinette were both waiting. Meg raised an eyebrow at Christine, but she shrugged it off. 

"Good evening, Madame Giry," Erik greeted, "and Mademoiselle Giry."

"Good evening," Antoinette replied, "how are you this evening, Monsieur?"

"Quite well," Erik replied, "and you?"

"I am also well, thank you," she replied, "Did you enjoy the performance?"

"Immensely, this theatre now has the finest dancers in Paris, or perhaps even France, in my humble opinion," he answered.

"Oh, and when has your opinion ever been humble?" Antoinette teased.

He gave a small chortle and sighed, "Well, I am no doubt keeping you from returning home, and I have no doubts that you are tired from a long night."

"Yes, we should be getting home, it is late," Antoinette agreed, "Tell me, Monsieur, will we be seeing you again in a few days?"

He smirked, "Ah, so you got one too?"

"Oui, an invitation to Colette and Richard's wedding. Short notice, perhaps, but welcome none the less.

"Maman, we should find a cab," Meg said.

"Of course, my dear. Well, good night, Erik, I hope to see you soon," Antoinette said.

Erik gave a small bow and then turned to Christine, "Bonsoir."

"Good night," she said, smiling when he kissed her hand.

"Christine!" Antoinette called from the door, "come, my dear."

"Good night," she repeated, stealing a quick kiss before she hurried after Meg and Antoinette.

"Good night," he murmured once she was gone, and then proceeded out the door to look for a cab, only to decide to walk home in the end.

* * *

**A/N: Whoa, two updates in one day. I am good! Yeah, so, this story will actually be done soon. I just realised this today...it's kind of strange, since I've been working on it for so long. Oh well, I suppose I'll just have to work on something else then. I was thinking about rewriting something...but haven't decided yet. Or working more on my modern day fic...yeah, so please leave me review.**


	56. LVI

LVI

The stable boy handed the reigns to Erik, a frown playing on his features, "He's a terrible pain, Sir. You ought to get yourself a better horse than him."

"I am rather fond of him," Erik said.

"Well none of here are," the boy muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, Sir. Have a good day."

Erik gave a small snort and led the horse out of the stable and mounted it, giving it a small tap with the crop when it turned to bite his foot. He then kicked the animal forward and began the short journey out of the city.

He rode up to the front of the Armand's estate and tethered his horse to the rail of the porch before going up to the door. He saw no use in taking it around back to the stable; after all, the animal would only cause trouble before he was taken away again. Upon reaching the front door he gave a firm knock, before taking a step back and tapping his crop against his boot.

"Monsieur Sabina!" Danielle gasped, surprising Erik when she opened the door, "oh, I have not seen you in so long, how have you been?"

"Well," he answered, waiting as she hugged him and kissed his cheek, "and you?"

"Oh, fine I suppose," she sighed, "I've been feeling a bit off lately, but I'm certain it is nothing."

"That is a shame," he said, following her into the front hall.

"Would you care for some tea?" she asked, "I was just about to have a cup."

"Merci," he said, "I would like it very much."

She smiled and offered him a seat in the parlour, sitting opposite him and pouring them each a cup of tea. Erik took his with a small smile and took a sip.

"I hope my husband hasn't been bothering you too much lately," Danielle sighed, "I know he's been visiting with you, taking business and such. He tells me that you have some brilliant ideas for our new house."

"Hmm, he's been a thorn in my side," Erik grumbled, "but less painful than most. I suppose I should be grateful for his friendship."

Danielle gave a little laugh, "What brings you here today, Monsieur Sabina?"

"A whim perhaps," he shrugged, "I was heading out of the city anyways, and thought I might pay a visit. I do hope that I am not being intrusive."

"Not at all," she smiled, "I always enjoy seeing you. Where are you off to, if I may ask?"

"Hmm, a small town," Erik shrugged, "I do not know its name."

"Visiting friends?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. I am to attend a wedding," he said, then gave a sharp bark of laughter, causing Danielle to jump, "me attending a wedding, oh what a strange thing! I had not really thought of it before now."

"And why is it so strange?" Danielle asked.

"It just is," Erik shrugged, "I have had to think of a gift to take and all sorts of strange things like that."

"Have you never attended a wedding before?" Danielle asked.

"No," Erik replied, swirling his tea around it the cup.

"Well, you will enjoy it," Danielle said, reaching across the table to close her hands around his.

He gave a small smile, "Yes, I suppose I will. After all, I could use some time away from the city. But enough about my miserable life, what have you been doing as of late?"

"Not much," she sighed, "mostly just staying in. With Charles out and about and not feeling myself I haven't truly had the want to go to the theatre or to shop. With the weather improving I have gone out for short walks on the grounds, but nothing more exciting. Oh, are you finished, would you like some more tea, or perhaps a small bite to eat? What a terrible hostess I'm being."

"Its fine," Erik said, "you needn't bother."

"Just a little something?" she asked, standing up and pressing her hand to her forehead before falling back onto the couch, "oh…my."

Erik frowned slightly, "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, I guess I just stood up too quickly," she answered, "I just got a bit light headed."

Erik's frown didn't go away, "Are you certain?"

"Yes," she sighed, offering a little smile, "don't worry over me. This has been happening more as of late. It always passes…Monsieur Sabina, stop frowning at me like that."

"Madame, I believe that you should see a doctor," Erik stated, his frown fading slightly.

"Oh, I don't really think that will be necessary," she said, "I'm sure this will pass quickly."

"Perhaps, or it might take some time," Erik said, "in the meantime, however, it cannot hurt."

"No, I guess it couldn't," she sighed, "but it is so inconvenient."

"Well," Erik sighed, "I should actually be going; I have a ways to go still."

"Oh, well thank you for coming," Danielle smiled, allowing Erik to help her up from her seat, "you should come again sometime."

"Of course," he said, turning to face her at the door, "au revoir, Madame Armand."

"Au revoir," she said, allowing him to kiss her hand, "have a safe trip.

"And you take care," he advised, "oh, and congratulations."

"Whatever for?" she asked.

"You will see," he said, "promise that you will see a doctor."

"I will," she said, "but what are the congratulations for?"

"I'm positive that the doctor will tell you," he said, stepping out onto the porch, "and tell you husband that he is a useless git for me."

Danielle gave a small laugh, "I will. Until we meet again, Monsieur."

* * *

Fleur was positively beside herself with excitement, getting under her mother's feet as she tried to prepare dinner, stepping on the cat's tail as she went to look out the window. Christine laughed a little when the enormous cat ran out of the room with a pitiful yowl.

"Fleur," her mother gasped, "Fleur, calm down."

"But he should be here soon," Fleur pouted.

"Well you running around won't help any," Colette sighed, "why don't you go to your room and get changed? You have mud on your dress."

"Alright!" the little girl cried, quickly going off to her room.

Colette just sighed, "Oh, she is too much sometimes."

"But she's very sweet," Meg said.

"Oh yes, she is very sweet," Colette agreed, "but too much so at times. Well, this little place will certainly be full for the next few days."

"Everything will be fine," Antoinette said, coming up behind her, "I will finish setting the table, you rest."

Colette gave her a gratified smile and sat down in the old armchair, "So much to do, so little time."

"Well we'll help," Christine offered, "anything that Meg and I can do we will."

"Of course," Meg agreed, "we can help cleaning, or with preparations. We both worked in a flower shop for a short while."

"That's very kind of you," Colette laughed, "if anything comes up, I'll let you know."

There was a moment of silence that at knock at the door interrupted. Antoinette answered it and Erik's voice drifted into the living room. Then there was the hurried scuttle of little feet and the shrill cry of "Erik!"

Christine laughed as Fleur ran around the corner and nearly knocked Erik over with an exuberant hug, "Oh," he gasped.

"Erik! Erik!" Fleur cried, tugging on his jacket until he crouched down. She then giggled and flung her arms around his neck, laughing harder when he stood up again, "You're silly."

"Am I?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, "I was waiting' for you."

"Well I had to visit a friend on the way out of the city," he said, carrying her into the living room when he realised that she wasn't about to let go.

"Oh," Fleur said thoughtfully.

Erik gave a small smile and gave a small nod to Colette, "It is good to see you again, Madame."

"You as well," she said, "I am glad that you could come."

"Well, I truly have nothing better to do," he shrugged, "ah, Mademoiselle Giry, a pleasure to see you again."

"Hello," she said cheerfully.

"Hello, Erik," Christine said, getting up to greet him.

"Hello," he said, smiling slightly when she claimed a quick kiss.

"Oooh!" Fleur gasped.

"Oh, you must get down now, Fleur," Erik groaned, placing her on the floor.

"Awww," she pouted, "then do you want to come and see how big the kittens have gotten?

"Not now," he answered, "finding himself a seat, "I'm a bit tired."

"Is your horsy in the field?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Can I go see him?"

"If your mother will let you."

"Can I, maman?" she asked, pouting prettily.

"Go ahead," Fleur said, then watching as she ran from the house, "anything to give us a moment's peace."

"She means well," Erik sighed.

"Yes, she does," Colette nodded, "now, how have you been, Erik?"

"Working myself to death," he answered, "all day and night."

"What a shame," Colette said, rolling her eyes.

"I have been perfectly well," Erik said, "and you?"

"Far too busy…but in a good way, I guess," she answered, "dinner will be in about ten minutes, so if you'd like to go up to the attic and change or anything then do so now."

* * *

The table was overly crowded at dinner, and Fleur ensured that there was not a moment's quiet. Erik began to wonder how she managed to eat through all of her chatter. It seemed that a million things had happened on the farm since Christmas, and naturally she had to tell them all about everything. It even continued when they moved into the living room, where she sat on the floor and went on and on and on.

"Fleur," Colette finally interrupted, "how about a little talk break?"

"Oh…fine," she pouted.

"Don't pout, Fleur," Colette scolded, "and go get ready for bed, its getting late."

"But I'm not sleepy, and everyone just got here," Fleur argued.

"You'll be tired soon enough," Colette said, "and you don't have to go to bed yet, just get ready."

"Fine," Fleur sighed, picking herself off of the floor and pattering out of the room.

"She's been busy," Erik muttered.

"Too busy," Colette laughed, "she's very excited. But I guess that it's a good thing."

"Indeed," Erik murmured.

"It will be very busy here for the next few days," Colette warned, "people coming and going at all hours of the day."

"Wonderful," Erik grumbled, "how many people are to be at the wedding?"

"Richard's parents, my parents and we both invited our siblings and their families."

"More than you would like to be there," Antoinette jested.

"I'm sure I'll survive," Erik shrugged, "if I can stand the theatre crowds, then a few people at a wedding shouldn't be too difficult."

"You go to the theatre?" Fleur asked, bouncing back into the room.

"Yes, as often as I can," Erik answered.

"Really? I wanna go too!" she exclaimed, then frowned thoughtfully, "what do you do at the theatre?"

"Watch ballets," Erik answered.

"Oh…and are they fun to watch?"

"Sometimes," Erik answered.

"Maman, can we go to a theatre sometime?"

"I don't know," Colette answered, "they're all in Paris, which is pretty far away."

"Well…we could go with Erik," she decided, "and if it got too late we could stay at his house."

"Well, I don't think Erik has much room in his house," Colette reasoned. "And the theatre is very expensive. Everyone has to wear fancy dresses and suits."

"Like the stuff that Erik wears?" Fleur asked.

"Kind of like that," Colette laughed, "but even fancier. Like what Richard will be wearing for the wedding."

"Oh…" she trailed off thoughtfully then frowned, "Erik, how can you go to the theatre?"

"I make a fair amount of money," he said, "and I live by myself."

"Are you rich?" Fleur asked.

"Well, I suppose some might consider me to be wealthy, I suppose," he replied awkwardly.

"Then-"

"Fleur, enough questions," Colette said exasperatedly, "you're talking poor Erik's ear off. Come on, let's get you off to bed."

"Aww, but-"

"No buts, its bed time, now go on," she said, getting up and shooing her daughter out of the room, "go on, I'm right behind you."

Colette returned a few minutes later with a heavy sigh, "Oh, I don't know how I will survive the week."

"With our help," Antoinette said, "I am sure that Erik can keep Fleur entertained, non?"

"Oh, don't look so frightened," Colette laughed, "I wouldn't make you do that.

"Hmm, I could think of a few ways to keep her busy, actually," Erik said thoughtfully, "if I recall correctly, she does enjoy hide and seek, no?"

"Ah yes, and you could nestle yourself up in the lofts again," Colette laughed.

"That's terrible," Meg gasped.

"But effective," Erik yawned, "Hmm."

"Long day?" Colette asked.

"Busy," he said.

"Well, we have all had a busy day," Antoinette said, "perhaps we would turn in?"

"An excellent idea, Madame," Erik said, "I bid you all a good night then, and hope not to see you too early in the morning."

They all said their goodnights and dispersed, Erik going up to the attic room, where he found many of his belongings. He removed his waistcoat and tossed it onto the chair, coving his violin case, and then fell onto the bed. It would be a long few days, he decided, full of more activity and excitement than he would ever want to experience. But, perhaps it would be worth it.

* * *

**A/N: What is this, three updates in two days? Yeah, I am good (and modest, eh?) So, anyways, a few more chapters and this story will be over and then I wish to rewrite one of my older stories, seeing as how they could use some improvements. So, I have decided to let you decided which one. All of them will probably get done eventually. So would you like a newer version of "Time to Heal" or "As Petals Fall"? It's up to you...yes, but anyways. Please leave me a review.**


	57. LVII

LVII

Christine gave a small yawn as Fleur bounced past her and into her seat at the table. Colette had already put out plates and was starting to add small platters of food to the table. Eggs, some bacon, ham and toast.

"Good morning," Christine said quietly.

"Morning!" Fleur exclaimed, "You hungry?"

"Yes," Christine replied, watching as Antoinette made tea.

"Did you sleep well?" Meg asked, taking her seat at the table.

"Mmm hmm," Christine nodded.

"Maman, where's Erik?" Fleur asked, standing on her chair and bobbing up and down.

"Sit down properly on your chair," Colette scolded, "and he is probably still in bed."

"But it's time for breakfast," Fleur frowned, "he should be down here."

"Sit properly," Colette repeated.

"Sorry," she sighed, sitting down and swinging her legs under the table, "can I get him?"

"No," Colette answered, "you'd be too loud."

"But he's gotta have breakfast," Fleur sighed, "it's the most important time to eat."

"I can wake him," Christine offered, "if you want."

"That would be very kind of you," Colette smiled.

Christine nodded and went up the stairs to the attic room. She was sure to be quiet, carefully pushing the door open, and cringing at the squeak that it made. It didn't seem to wake Erik though, as his breathing remained slow and even. Christine gave a small smile, she had hoped that he would still be asleep, and not just avoiding breakfast.

Carefully she snuck over to the bed, smiling down at him as he slept and gently brushing his hair back from his face. He made a small noise in his throat at that, and she whispered his name. Another small noise and a furrowed brow. With a small smile she bent over him and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, hearing his intake of breath and pulling back to see him staring at her through half lidded, confused eyes.

"They want you down for breakfast," she said softly, "you have to get up."

She laughed as he grumbled an incoherent response and rolled over, "Come on, Erik."

"Shhh," he hissed.

She gave a small laugh and grabbed his shoulder, rolling him onto his back and smiling down at him, "Time to get up."

He gave a wicked little grin and grabbed onto her waist, pulling her down onto the bed with him. Christine gasped and frowned at him, even though a smile played on her lips, "You have to get up."

"Mmmm," he replied, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

Christine laughed and kissed him before hopping off the bed, "Breakfast."

Erik sighed heavily and got up, doing up his shirt and tucking it into his pants as he walked towards the door. Christine darted past him and down into the kitchen, "He's coming."

Erik grumbled from behind her and slumped into the empty seat beside Antoinette, who raised her eyebrows, "Good morning."

He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, "Drop dead."

"Such a pleasant attitude," Meg laughed, "are you not a morning person, Monsieur?"

"Far from it," Colette said, "now, everyone dig in, there's plenty to go around. Erik, I expect you to eat something as well."

Another incoherent mumble and he took a piece of toast, taking one bite of it before dropping it onto his plate.

"You gotta finish that," Fleur whispered, "Maman says you gotta eat everything on your plate."

Erik snorted and picked up the remaining toast, shoving it all in his mouth at once. Antoinette just rolled her eyes, "Do not choke."

"Oh, did you hear?" Meg asked suddenly, "someone bought the Opera Populaire."

"Really?" Christine asked, giving Erik a concerned look when he began to cough.

"I told you," Antoinette said, as he thumped his fist against his chest.

"Uh-huh," Meg nodded, "some wealthy businessman. He says that he wants to have it restored, I read it in the paper the other day."

"Are you sure it isn't just rumours?" Christine asked.

"Yes, there had been an article about it a few days before, and then he bought it."

"Erik, are you alright?" Fleur asked.

Erik nodded his head and gave another small cough before answering a bit breathlessly, "Yes."

"How long is it supposed to take to restore it?" Christine asked.

"Oh, I don't know," Meg shrugged, "I don't think it said."

"It would take months," Erik muttered, "maybe even years, depending on the amount of damage. It took fifteen years to build the theatre originally."

"Oh, really?" Meg asked.

"Yes…I'd assume it would take at least a year and a half," Erik shrugged, "at the least."

"Do they have an architect?" Antoinette asked.

"I only glanced at the article," Meg shrugged, "I don't really remember much about it. I think that they wanted to start the restoration in two months, but I could be wrong about that. I mean, they'd have all the designs already, wouldn't they?"

"Yes," Erik answered, "all they would need is architects, and they can easily be found. Many people would love the opportunity to work on such a grand project."

"Erik, you're an architecter," Fleur pointed out, "you gonna work on it?"

"No," he replied a bit darkly, "I have other jobs I need to focus on."

"What jobs?" she asked.

"A summer house for a friend," Erik replied irritably, "and a project for myself."

"What kinda project?" Fleur persisted.

"A house," Erik answered.

"Ooh, will it be a big house?"

"Yes, it will be a big house."

"Then we'll be able to visit you!" Fleur exclaimed.

Erik ground his teeth together and gave a stiff nod, "Yes, you will be able to visit me. When it is finished."

"When will that be?" she asked.

"After I start building."

"When will that be?"

"Once the snow melts."

"Then soon?"

Yes, soon."

"Where will you-"

"Fleur," Colette said, giving her a warming look, "enough questions. If you can talk that much then you must be finished your breakfast. If so, then go brush your hair and teeth. If not be quiet and finish eating."

She hung her head sadly and started to eat what was left on her plate before looking up tentatively, "Erik?"

"What?" he asked, exasperation tinting his voice.

"I'm sorry for bothering you. Will you forgive me?"

Erik allowed his shoulders to drop slightly and the frown on his face to disappear, "Yes, and I am sorry for being such a grumpy old man."

Fleur giggled loudly, "You aren't old! And it's alright, cause Maman says I'm a nuisance!"

Erik gave a quiet laugh, "Is that so?"

Fleur nodded her head and then finished her breakfast before running off to do as her mother told her. Once she was gone Erik saw no point in staying at the table either and rose, taking his dishes over to the sink.

"Is there anything that needs to be done around the farm?" he asked.

"You could let the horses out," Colette said, "and if you could check on the gate, it wasn't closign properly."

He nodded his head, "Is that all?"

"Richard's been keeping everything fixed up," Colette shrugged, "I'm afraid that you are out of work, Monsieur."

Erik shrugged his shoulder, "Put the horses out and check the gate, that seems simple enough."

He slipped on his boots and left the house quietly, and Colette watched as he wandered over to the barn. He had certainly changed since she had first met him.

"And what can we do?" Meg asked hopefully.

"The dishes," Antoinette told her, causing the enthusiasm to die away.

"Fine," Meg sighed.

"I've actually gotten most of the planning done;" Colette shrugged, "now it's just waiting. The cake and flowers have all been ordered, the invitations sent out. I'm keeping my dress at the church…only thing to do now is worry, I suppose."

"Where will the reception be?" Christine asked.

Colette gave a little laugh, "The inn located in town. That's where everyone is staying anyways. So it made sense. Besides, I know the owner and he was happy to do it for me. I only hope that it all goes well."

"It will," Antoinette assured her, "just wait."

Colette smiled, "Yes, well. I hope so."

* * *

"I'm gonna go play with Erik!" Fleur shouted, running towards the stairs. 

"Hold it," Colette said, causing her daughter to stop in her tracks, "I don't want you bothering him, Fleur."

"I won't," she said innocently.

"Fleur," Colette warned.

"What?" she pouted, "Erik likes me, he told me so, and it's boring down here."

Christine hid a laugh with a small cough and went back to her needlework, glancing over at Meg and smiling. Meg smiled back, obviously trying not to laugh as well.

"Fine," Colette said, "but don't annoy him."

Fleur gave a little squeal and dashed up the stairs, nearly tripping twice on her way up. She then grabbed onto the door handle and twisted it, falling into the room as the door opened. Erik looked over from his bed, where he was lying down, a book held up in front of him.

"Maman said I could see you if I wasn't a bother," Fleur announced, scampering over to the bed and climbing onto it. Erik shifted over a bit to let her on.

"Whatcha readin'?" she asked.

"Frankenstein," he answered.

"Is it good?" she asked, frowning up at the book, "it's got no pictures."

"No, it doesn't, and it is a good novel."

"What's it about?" Fleur asked.

"A monster," Erik answered.

"That sounds scary."

Erik sighed and closed the book, tossing it onto the desk before sitting up. Fleur quickly climbed onto his lap, staring at him for a minute, "Did I bother you?"

"No," he answered.

"Good…" she trailed off and bit her bottom lip, chewing it for a second. Then, very slowly, she reached out and touched her hands to his face, one against the leather, the other against his skin, "This side is cold," she murmured, referring to the mask.

Erik swallowed hard, "Mmm?"

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you wear it?" Fleur asked.

"Because I do," he answered simply.

"Oh…" she said, tracing the lines of the mask with her fingers. She started to trace around the edge, slipping his little fingers beneath the edge. Erik quickly, but gently raised his hand to cover hers.

"Do not do that, Fleur," he said.

"Sorry," she murmured, "Erik?"

"What?"

Fleur bit her lip again and whispered when she spoke, "Is something wrong…with your face?"

Had it been anyone else that question might have hurt or insulted him. But coming from Fleur it was just a childish question, so he nodded his head slowly, "Yes."

"Oh…" she said, touching the mask again, "that's fine."

Erik gave a weak smile and Fleur wrapped her arms around his neck, then leaned back and kissed his nose, "Cause I like you, Erik."

"Thank you," Erik murmured.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Is that your fiddle?"

"It is a violin," he replied, allowing her to move off his lap so he could get the case and open it.

"Wow, it's really pretty," Fleur gasped.

"Would you like to hear a song?" Erik asked, taking it from the case and positioning it under his chin.

"Yeah!" Fleur exclaimed, listening intently as he drew the bow across the strings and then tuned it.

Fleur giggled as Erik played, keeping the tune lively and adding little flourishes. When he was finished he set the violin down and Fleur gave a pretty little pout, "Is that all?"

"That's the end of the song," Erik stated.

"What was the song called?" Fleur asked.

"Masquerade," Erik answered, humming a bit of it.

"I like it," Fleur giggled.

"_Masquerade,_" Erik sang, "_paper faces on parade, masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you._"

Fleur smiled widely, "I like it when you sing, your voice is nice."

Erik gave a small smile, "Thank you."

"Erik?" Colette asked, knocking once on the door.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Sipper is going to be soon, so I need Fleur to get ready."

"Of course," he said, stepping to the side as the girl dashed out of the room.

"You too," she said.

"I will be down in a minute," he said, closing the violin case.

"She didn't bother you?"

"Not at all, actually," Erik admitted.

Colette smiled, "That was a lovely song, by the way."

"Merci," he said, giving a nod of his head.

Colette just smiled back at him before leaving the doorway to let him get ready for dinner. Then, a second later her voice came from the bottom step, "Oh, and Richard will be joining us!"

* * *

**A/N: Fear my updating skills! Oh, and review...and tell me which story to rewrite ("As Petals Fall" or "Time to Heal"). You can vote, use your privelage! So far "As Petals Fall" has one vote for it...Review!**


	58. LVIII

LVIII

Erik sighed heavily as he lay in the loft of the barn. It really was his favourite place, he decided, to get away from everyone. Of course Colette would know where he was, but the children didn't, and since Colette's sister had come to visit with her son along with Richard's brother, his wife and their children. All together that made four children younger than eight and an enormous headache. At the moment they were all hunting the farm for him. Hide and seek was truly an ingenious game.

"Erik!" Fleur called, entering the barn for the second time, "Christine!"

Erik snuck up to the edge of the loft and peered over the edge. It seemed as if the children had recruited Christine, and most likely Meg as well. He watched as they combed the barn and then all scuttled away again, and then As Christine snuck in through the back door and went to nestle herself in a stall.

"Christine," he sang softly, causing her to freeze, "Christine."

She furrowed her brow and looked around, "Erik?"

He smirked and kicked a bit of hay over the edge of the loft, causing her to whirl around and look up, "Up here."

She smiled and hurried over to the ladder, carefully climbing up and then allowing him to help her to the more difficult and hidden area where he was.

"How did you get up here?" she laughed.

"You learn things when living in a theatre," he shrugged, "climbing become a necessity."

She laughed quietly, "You're terrible to hide up here, they will never find you."

"That is the idea, my dear," he answered.

Christine just shook her head and allowed him to pull her down into the sweet smelling hay with him. She frowned at him, but he ignored it, leaning in and kissing her, cupping her cheek in his hand and enjoying her passionate response.

"Terrible," she murmured once he pulled away.

"Hmm," he sighed, looking at her through half lidded eyes. She just smiled at him, leaning in for another kiss and gasping when he pulled her onto his lap and deepened the kiss.

There was something almost desperate in his kiss and the way his hands gripped her shoulders. She welcomed his tongue into her mouth and allowed his hands to roam over her back, pulling her closer to him. She could feel the lick of heat and the pleasant tightness in her belly and suddenly hated her skirts. She tried to press closer to him, causing him to let out a low moan.

He stopped first, his breathing coming in quick pants. Christine felt a slight lick of disappointment but shifted off his lap carefully, nestling beside him and resting her head against his shoulder. After a moment he titled her face towards his again and claimed another kiss, this one slow and relaxed.

"We should go back inside," Christine said, placing hand on his chest as he leaned in again.

"Hmm," he grumbled, wrinkling his nose, "I'd rather not."

Christine shook her head and got up, brushing hay from her clothes, "Well I'm going in, it's getting cold and I don't want to be rude."

Erik sighed quietly and stood as well, leading the way down out of the loft and back to the house, where the children were all laughing and giggling by the fireplace. Fleur immediately got up and ran over to him, "Erik, we couldn't find you."

"That is because I am so good at hiding," he boasted.

"Nuh-uh!" Fleur laughed, picking some straw from his pants, "you were in the loft."

"Clever girl," Erik muttered.

"Would you like some tea?" Colette asked.

"I think I will turn in for the night, actually," Erik replied, "but it was…nice to meet you all. I suppose I will see you at the wedding tomorrow?"

"Good night then," Meg said cheerfully, "sleep well."

Erik gave a small bow before slipping from the room. Christine joined them though, squishing herself in beside Meg and accepting a cup of tea.

* * *

Her and Meg stayed fairly quiet as the adults talked, murmuring to each other once in a while. Eventually the children fell asleep on the floor, curled up on the carpet in front of the fire. Christine stifled a yawn and gave a small stretch.

"I think I'll turn in," she murmured.

"All right," Antoinette said, "sleep well, my dear."

"Yeah, me too," Meg agreed, "night everyone."

"Good night, my dear," Antoinette repeated, "you sleep well too."

"Night, Maman," she yawned, "see you in the morning everyone."

"Good night you two," Colette said.

Meg started toward the hall to the rooms but Christine hesitated, instead turning towards the kitchen and the stairs leading to the attic, "I'm just going to say good night, if that's alright, Madame?"

"It is fine," she said, patting Christine's hand.

Christine smiled and made her way to the stairs, slipping up them quietly and opening the door to the attic with the familiar creak. She had guessed correctly, Erik was still awake, sitting with his back against the headboard, eyes flicking over the pages of a book. He glanced up at her entrance and tilted his head to the side in a questioning manner.

"I just came to say good night, I'm going to bed now," she said, sitting down beside him.

"Ah," he said, "then good night, mon amour."

She smiled and kissed him before leaning her head against his chest sleepily, "Mmm, bon soir."

She heard him give a light chuckle as she struggled to keep her eyes open and smiled to herself. She felt him shift slowly, down into a lying position and slipped down with him, letting out a sleepy moan as the blankets were pulled up to cover them. She knew that she shouldn't stay, but didn't really care and allowed herself to drift off to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Short chapter, but a chapter none the less...vote people. "Time to Heal" and "As Petals Fall" are now tied at one each...oh and review please.**


	59. LIX

LIX

Erik breathed in deeply, enjoying the feeling of still being asleep, despite the fact that he was awake. He could feel Christine's warmth against his chest and the haziness of sleep still fogged his mind. It was a good feeling, and he only opened his eyes against his better judgement, blinking in the darkness of the room. Apparently the sun had yet to rise.

With a groggy sigh he reached his arms around her middle, pulling her closer and pressing his lips to her cheek. She gave a small moan and turned her head to frown at him through squinty eyes. He kissed her lips then and smiled when she elbowed him in the stomach before rolling over to face him.

"It's too early," she murmured, "and it's going to be a busy day."

He rested his forehead against hers, "Mmm hmm."

"Go back to sleep," she yawned.

That just earned her another kiss, "Mmm hmm."

Christine sighed and nestled her head against his chest, "Go back to sleep."

He drifted off to sleep again, at least he thought so. After all, the next time he opened his eyes soft morning light was filtering into the room. He smiled to himself and kissed the top of Christine's head, enjoying the little moan she gave as she shifted.

"Morning," she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and kissing him, "sleep well?"

"Mmm hmm," he sighed.

"You're articulate in the morning," she teased, claiming another kiss.

"Mmm hmm."

Christine laughed softly, "Words?"

"Mmm," he wrinkled his nose, "s'anyone up?"

"I don't think so," Christine said, "I haven't-"

"Wedding day!" Fleur's voice carried through the house.

"Heard anyone," Christine finished weakly.

Fleur continued to chant those two words over and over again, which left no doubt in Erik's mind that everyone in the house would soon be awake.

"Oh, it is too early for such a racket," he grumbled.

"Wedding day!" Fleur exclaimed, scampering into the room," Erik, its wedding day! Oh, Christine, guess what?"

"It's wedding day?" Christine asked, rolling over to face the little girl, earning a grunt of dissatisfaction from Erik.

"Yeah!" the girl giggled, "why're you sleeping in here with Erik?"

"It's where I fell asleep," Christine said.

"Oh," Fleur said, bobbing up and down beside the bed, "you excited for the wedding?"

"Yes," Christine answered, "are you?"

"Uh-huh!" Fleur giggled, "Erik, are you excited?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Erik doesn't like mornings," Fleur whispered to Christine.

"I know," Christine murmured.

"He's grumpy in the mornings," Fleur added.

"He is," Christine agreed, earning a small jab in the back.

"I'm gonna go see if maman's making breakfast," Fleur announced, "You gotta come down for it, Erik."

"Mmm hmm," came his response.

Fleur scampered out of the room and down the stairs loudly. The moment she was gone Erik turned Christine back towards him and claimed a breathtaking kiss, "Grumpy?"

Christine gave a small squeal, "Just a bit."

He claimed another kiss before she slipped off the bed, "I should go get dressed."

Christine slipped out the door and down the stairs, arriving at the bottom just in time to hear her name.

Antoinette helped Colette start getting breakfast ready. She filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove, then dug out the teapot. Fleur scampered into the kitchen from the attic, earning her a stern look from Colette.

"You didn't wake Erik, did you?" she demanded.

"He was already awake," Fleur said.

"I hope so," Colette said, "because it is still early and breakfast isn't ready yet."

"I know," Fleur sighed, "Can I help?"

"Why don't you go wake up Meg and Christine?" Antoinette suggested.

"Christine's awake too," Fleur said, "she was with Erik."

Antoinette looked over to the stairs when they creaked and caught Christine, blushing furiously, standing at the bottom, "G-good morning, Madame…we were just sleeping."

Antoinette sighed and shook her head, "Yes well I would hope so. After all, the walls are fairly thin in this house, and you were in the attic," Christine's blush turned scarlet at that remark, "I just wish for you to be careful. It is in such instances that girls get bad reputations and scandals are started, non?"

"Yes, Madame," Christine said quietly. She knew all too well about scandal, "I'm sorry…"

"Go get dressed," Antoinette replied, "and wake Meg while you are at it."

"Yes, Madame," Christine said, hurrying away.

Colette cast a side glance to Antoinette, "She is a good girl, Antoinette."

"I know," she sighed, "it is not her that I am worried about, hmm?"

"Erik is a good man. A gentleman," Colette said.

"Am I?" Erik asked warily, stepping off of the bottom stair.

Antoinette's look would have been enough warning, it certainly told him that she had been there when Christine had gone through. However the hand that stung his cheek was what would leave the lasting impression.

"Ugh," he snarled, gnashing his teeth together.

"That is for what you have done, have been thinking about doing and what you have yet to do," Antoinette said haughtily.

Erik placed his own hand over his stinging cheek, glaring at Antoinette, "There was a time, Madame, when that would have cost you dearly."

"And now?" Antoinette asked.

He just scowled, "Now I have a sore cheek."

"Remember it," she said.

Erik gave it a final rub, "A polite discussion would have sufficed."

"With you, I can never be sure," Antoinette said, "you were never one to listen."

* * *

Hectic was the word that could best describe the day. As soon as breakfast ended there was a never ending stream of things to do. Everyone had to gather everything together and get the carriage hitched. Then it was time for lunch and after lunch it was another quick clean up and off to the church. Once there it only got worse. The women had to get changed into their dresses and Erik had to change into a clean and rather stifling formal suit. 

"Let me fix that," Antoinette said, adjusting his cravat.

"I'm not sure it is supposed to be that tight," he grumbled.

"For the wedding it will be," she said, brushing a few flecks of dust from his shoulder.

"So I am not supposed to breath?" he asked, loosening it a bit.

"Non," she answered, frowning at him.

"And how are the others doing?" he asked.

"Fine, Colette is terribly nervous, but happy none the less. Christine and Meg have helped her with her hair and are now entertaining Fleur, who is delighted with her outfit and role in the whole affair."

"Naturally," Erik muttered, "and Richard?"

"Nervous," she laughed, "but happy as well. And you?"

"Why would I be nervous?" Erik asked, "I am in no way involved in the ceremony. I merely have to sit and watch."

Antoinette gave a small laugh, "You hate churches, and you hate crowds."

"This will hardly be a crowd, Madame," he stated, "the theatre is a crowd; one of Armand's parties is a crowd. This…this is a small gathering."

"Just behave," she said.

"Very well," Erik sighed, "but I shall have you know, that you take all the fun out of everything."

"It is better that way," Antoinette assured him, "now if you will excuse me; I wish to check on Colette again. If you want to be helpful, go and help Christine and Meg with Fleur."

"I shall see to it immediately," Erik said, rolling his eyes, earning him a sharp look from Antoinette.

* * *

**A/N:** **Not that long...it was going to be longer but then I realised it would be like an epic chapter. So now you have a faster update. Please leave me a review. ("As Petals Fall" and "Time to Heal" are now tied at one each).**


	60. LX

LX

Fleur was absolutely bubbly in her new dress and role of flower girl, carrying her little basket with her wherever she went. Erik only ran into her by accident, after being sent to find Christine and Meg so they could be seated. Of course Fleur was with them, her eyes bright and she bobbed up and down.

"I'm afraid that I will have to steal Christine and Meg," Erik told her, "we have to go be seated."

"Is it starting soon?" she asked.

"Yes, very soon," Erik nodded, that is why we must take our seats."

"Then I gotta go see maman," she said, "so that I can get the flowers, cause I'm the flower girl!"

"Indeed you are," Erik said, "hurry then."

Fleur scurried off and Erik gave a small shake of his head, enthusiasm was something that the young girl certainly did not lack.

"So where are we to sit?" Meg asked him.

"Oh, wherever we wish," he shrugged, "Antoinette told me the third pew from the front on the right."

"Specific," Meg laughed.

"Indeed, shall we?" he asked, holding out his arm in the direction of the church.

"I think we shall," Christine laughed, looping her arm through his and following him towards the chapel.

The ceremony was beautiful. The chapel was decorated simply, but still gorgeously, with white roses. Colette looked nothing short of stunning in her dress of ivory and lace. Nothing seemed to extravagant or too simple, just the perfect country wedding. Not only that, but everyone looked so happy. Erik could feel the lump that formed in his throat and the familiar sensation of tears that threatened to fall.

Richard and Colette kissed were declared husband and wife, they kissed and then they proceeded out of the small chapel and to the nearby inn where the reception was to be held.

"That was so beautiful!" Meg exclaimed as they made their way to the inn.

"It really was," Christine agreed, "oh, the white roses and her dress. It was all so perfect."

"I can't wait until I get married," Meg sighed.

Christine laughed at her friend, "For that you'd need to have a beau."

Meg wrinkled her nose, "Details."

* * *

The inn was the perfect place for the reception, with a large bar beneath the rooms where food and drink had been set out. There was champagne as well as wine and beer. Something for everyone it seemed, and all quite informal. There were no stiff waltzes, save for the first dance of the bride and groom, but lively music and nothing but enjoyment. 

Erik watched as Christine and Meg danced, wide smiles on their faces as they laughed. Fleur was with them, trying to mimic their flowing movements as best she could. Christine looked over at him and her smile seemed to widen a bit more as she hurried over to him and grabbed his hand.

"Dance with me," she laughed.

"I don't think-"

"You don't have to," she interrupted, pulling him onto the dance floor and giggling as he stumbled slightly.

"Christine," he groaned.

"Come on," she entreated, "its fun."

He didn't know how to dance, at least nothing more than formal waltzes and the like. Certainly he had seen enough dancing, between the ballets and his time with the gypsies he had obtained a certain knowledge of it, but he had never been taught anything formal.

"Don't leave," Christine laughed, grabbing his hand as he tried to escape, "just…listen to the music and…go with it."

He gave her a quizzical look, "Go with it?"

"Yeah," she said, "it's hard to explain but…its like, you just dance what you feel in the music."

She demonstrated it perfectly, dancing with the lively music, swaying and turning. It reminded him a lot of the gypsy dances, full of passion and emotion. And so he tried, a bit clumsily at first, but persisting, melding all his knowledge of dance together.

"Erik!" Christine gasped, as he grabbed her waist and lifted her off the ground, spinning her around before setting her down again.

"Me next!" Fleur exclaimed, tugging on his pant leg.

Erik bent over and scooped the little girl up, lifting her into the air and spinning her around, even giving her a little toss before settling her back on the ground. Fleur just squealed in delight, "Again!"

Erik wrinkled his nose, but picked her up again, spinning her in a circle and then holding her for a moment, "Like that?"

"You play now!" she said, "we've got a fiddle here."

"I don't know," Erik said.

"Come on!" Fleur pleaded, "for me?"

He gave an over exaggerated sigh, "Well, if it's for you."

When the song ended Erik followed Fleur to find out where this fiddle was, which the little girl showed him eagerly. He picked it up carefully and nestled it under his chin before drawing the bow across it, causing Colette to look over at him with curiosity. He just gave a small nod and lifted the bow to the strings again.

He melded together several of folksongs that he had heard, bits of gypsy music and even melded in bits of the score of _Don Juan Triumphant_, keeping the music quick and lively so that people could dance. When he put the fiddle down again Christine pulled him out to dance again, this time to a slower song, allowing them all a rest.

"That was lovely," she complimented.

"It was decent," he shrugged, "nothing spectacular, simply improvisation."

"Well, I thought it was lovely," she repeated, "and very kind of you."

* * *

The night passed by quickly. Erik entertained the children for a while with some magic, Christine had him dance again and Colette and Antoinette forced him to eat something, to which he rolled his eyes and enjoyed a small piece of the cake. By the end of it all he found himself feeling light headed and oddly happy. 

"You're drunk," Christine teased as they exited into the cold night air.

"I am not," Erik replied.

"You are too!" Meg laughed.

Erik rolled his eyes, "No I am not."

"Not even a bit?" Colette teased.

"No," Erik answered.

"I think you might be," Richard said.

Another roll of the eyes, "Well if you all insist it then who am I to argue?"

"You didn't have that much to drink though," Meg pointed out.

"Ah, but he also had almost nothing to eat," Antoinette pointed out, "you should never drink on an empty stomach."

"Listen to your mother," Erik said, nodding his head solemnly, "she is quite wise."

"Then you admit it?" Christine asked, "you are drunk."

"Haven't I already done so?" he asked.

Antoinette rolled her eyes and tapped his arm firmly, "Behave."

They all returned to the small farm, there would be no real honeymoon for Colette and Richard, but they didn't seem to mind. Fleur was sent straight to bed and the rest quickly followed, as it was nearly two in the morning. Erik only hoped that he would not be woken up at some ungodly hour.

* * *

The next day was spent relaxing. Erik floated into the living room just after lunch, sitting down in the old armchair with a light sigh. Christine smiled at him from her spot on the sofa, "Good afternoon." 

"Afternoon," he murmured.

"You missed two meals."

"What a shame," he yawned.

"You can't still be tired," Christine teased.

"Drowsy," he corrected.

"Come sit with me."

He got up slowly and went over to the small sofa and sat down, smiling when Christine leaned her head against his shoulder. They dozed there for a short time, enjoying the quiet of the house until Antoinette and Colette started supper and Fleur bounded into the house.

"You missed breakfast and lunch," she informed Erik.

"I was sleeping," he answered simply.

"That's what Richard said, then he told me that I couldn't wake you up."

Erik suddenly admired the man just a bit more, "Well that was wise of him."

"Cause you're grumpy when people wake you up?" Fleur asked.

"Yes," Erik agreed, "terribly grumpy."

"Tomorrow you gotta get up though," Fleur told him.

"Very well then, tomorrow I will be up for breakfast."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

Erik hated promises, especially when it meant loud and cheerful children waking him up by jumping on his chest. It was certainly and effective way to wake someone up, he supposed, if not rather painful. 

"Morning!" Fleur exclaimed.

Erik gave a pained wheeze, "Is it?"

"You gotta come down for breakfast," Fleur told him, "cause you promised."

"I promised," he groaned, "yes, yes I promised."

Fleur giggled and waited as he got ready, mainly going up his shirt, tucking it into his trousers and finding a pair of socks. All the while Fleur looked through his other belongings until she pulled something out of his jacket pocket and gave a little gasp at the velvet box.

"Erik, what's this for?" she asked.

"Fleur," he scolded, snatching the box away, "you do not go through people's personal belongings."

Fleur just smiled, "I know what's in there."

"Oh, do you?" he asked, putting the box in his pocket.

"Uh-huh! Cause that's what the box Richard had looked like," she explained.

"How nice," Erik grumbled.

"It's a secret though, isn't it?" Fleur asked, lowering her voice to a whisper.

"Yes it is, so you cannot tell anyone," Erik agreed, "understand?"

"Yup, I can keep a secret."

* * *

**A/N: A wedding? I love weddings, drinks all around! (falls over). Yes, ahem, indeed...leave a review please. More greatness to come...sometime soonish.**


	61. Part Seven

Part Seven

LXI

Fleur could keep a secret, though not particularly well. She was far too easily excited and spent the entire breakfast bobbing up and down excitedly. When asked she of course said nothing, just giggled and looked over at Erik.

"Fleur seemed happy about something," Christine commented, coming up beside him as he walked around the farm.

"Hmm, she is a rather cheerful individual," Erik shrugged.

Christine laughed and looped her arm through his, "It's so nice out today!"

"Indeed, it would seem that spring has finally arrived," Erik agreed.

Christine smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder, "So…why was Fleur so happy at breakfast?"

"I cannot say," Erik lied.

"She kept looking at you," Christine pointed out, "so you must know. Why was she so excited?"

Erik tilted his head to the side, furrowed his brow and pursed his lips together, "Hmm…I cannot say."

Christine pouted prettily and stepped in front of him, "Please tell me?"

"It is a surprise," he said, bending to try and steal a kiss, and frowning when she stepped away from it.

"Not until you tell me," she teased.

"That would ruin the surprise," he pointed out.

Christine frowned, "Will I like this surprise?"

"I certainly hope so," he muttered, turning the ring box over in his pocket nervously.

"Will I know soon?"

"Hmm, very soon," he nodded, nerves suddenly gripping him, "but first, let us walk for a bit."

Christine nodded her head and looped her arm through his again, allowing him to lead her around the property. She made him stop at the pasture to watch the single cow and the large grey horse grazing peacefully. Ragnarok galloped over to the fence and skidded to a halt just in front of it, letting out a throaty whinny.

"He won't hurt you," Erik said, pushing the animal's nose away as he tried to nibble on Christine's dress.

"He just startled me," Christine murmured, tentatively reaching out to touch the horse's nose, "he's very big.""

"And troublesome," Erik added, "he's a big bully."

The large grey horse meandered over to the fence and claimed Christine's attention with his large nose and Ragnarok bit at his neck, earning a slap from Erik. In response the horse tried to bite his hand, earning another hard smack on the nose.

"Don't be so much trouble," Erik grumbled.

Christine laughed, "You two suit each other."

Erik gave a small frown, "How so?"

"You're both trouble," she teased, reaching up and kissing his nose.

Erik grabbed her waist and spun her around, eliciting a small scream of surprise, "Are we now?"

"Yes," Christine laughed, "nothing but trouble."

He smirked and claimed a kiss before setting her on the ground again to claim another. She smiled against his lips and then leaned away and smiled up at him.

"Still nothing but trouble?" he asked silkily.

"Nothing but," she nodded, giving him a quick kiss, "but I like it that way."

Erik smiled and leaned against the fence and brushed his fingers across her cheek, "Of that I am glad."

She smiled at him and leaned her head against his shoulder, "So…what is this secret surprise?"

"Mmm," he shrugged his shoulders.

"Will I like it?" she continued.

"I hope so," he said softly.

Christine's brow puckered and she tried to look into his eyes, "Erik, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he murmured, his hand turning something over in his pocket.

"You're lying," she frowned, "what is it?

"It's nothing," he shook his head, "I-I just…I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask me what?" Christine asked, "You can ask me anything, Erik."

He nodded his head uncertainly, "You don't have to answer right away. You can take some time to think, if you'd like."

"Of course," Christine agreed, "but you have to ask first, you know that?"

He gave a nervous laugh and nodded his head, fiddling with the box in his pocket, "Yes, I suppose I would…"

He took a deep breath and pulled the small box out of his pocket, holding it tightly in the palm of his hand. Christine tilted her head slightly as he raised his hand, still closed around the box. With the smallest flicker of a nervous smile he opened his hand and her eyes widened slightly.

"You don't have to answer right away," He reminded her, opening the box to reveal the ring, "but…I would be honoured if you would accept."

Christine covered her hand with her mouth and felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes. It was a ring, a simple gold band with a single ruby, but seemingly more beautiful than anything that she had ever seen before. An engagement ring, and she couldn't say anything as he slipped it onto her left ring finger, just nod her head dumbly.

"You can think-"

"Yes," she finally choked out, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, "yes, Erik…my answer is yes."

He stumbled back into the fence and couldn't help but give a relieved laugh, finally able to ask the question, "Will you marry me, Christine?"

She nodded her head and laughed, wiping tears from her eyes, "Yes."

He laughed again and swept her into the air, spinning her around several times.

"Erik," she laughed, "stop, you'll get dizzy."

He stopped and lowered her to the ground, quickly claiming her mouth, "I love you."

"That is usually why people propose," Christine teased.

"I would have kneeled," he murmured, "but it's rather muddy."

She just smiled and stole another kiss, giving a small scream when he swept her into the air again, "Erik!" He just laughed.

* * *

"Maman?" Fleur asked, tugging at her mother's skirt, "Erik's acting funny. What's he doing?" 

Colette frowned and went over to the door, where Fleur had been looking out. She raised her eyebrows and watched as Erik spun Christine around, a broad smile on his face. He finally set her down with a slight stumble and moved to kiss her.

"Come on, Fleur," Colette said, guiding her daughter away from the door, "it's not polite to stare."

"I wasn't staring," she objected.

"Well it isn't polite to watch others either," Colette said pointedly, "come now; help me with dinner, hmm?"

"Mmm…alright!"

* * *

Christine and Erik entered just as dinner was being served, taking their seats quickly. Colette raised her eyebrows at Erik, who simply quirked his eyebrow in return. With a small shrug Colette sat down and said a prayer so that they could start the meal. 

"Meg, could you pass the rolls?" Christine, reaching for the basket as her friend passed it.

"Sure, here you…oh my god!"

"Meg," Antoinette scolded, but her daughter wasn't paying attention. Indeed she had grabbed Christine's hand and was inspecting it with a wide smile.

"Oh, Christine!" she gasped, "It's beautiful!"

Christine blushed, "Thank you."

"So…so you're engaged?" she asked, "are you?"

"You're getting' married?" Fleur asked, her eyes bright with excitement, "are ya, Erik?"

Erik nodded his head, "Yes, that would be the plan."

For one brief moment he thought that Antoinette might hit him, but in the end she just smiled and offered a quiet congratulations, along with Colette and Richard. Fleur and Meg, however, were both ecstatic, laughing and smiling broadly. Meg was inspecting the ring carefully, turning Christine's hand over and fiddling with it while Fleur was asking a multitude of questions about the wedding.

"Fleur," Colette finally interjected, "they have only just been engaged, and they still have a lot to talk about."

"But when's it gonna be?" she asked.

"We haven't talked about that yet," Erik answered.

"Where's it gonna be?"

"We don't know," Christine answered.

"Well, when're you gonna know?" Fleur pouted.

"I suspect that we will discuss it once we have returned to Paris," Erik shrugged, "and once we know, then you shall know."

"Yay!"

"Now eat your supper," Colette instructed, "all of you."

* * *

**A/N: Dudes, the end is so close I can smell it! I know, I know. You're all like "No wait!" and I'm all like "Yes wai!"...I really need to start going to bed sooner...pah! So, I do hope that you have enjoyed this chapter, please leave me a review. Also, I believe that "Time to Heal" might be the re-write...though I do intend to do both of them...well and "Shadows of the Past" because it goes with "Time to Heal". And I have like two other stories going...ow, my brain. Yeah so, review please.**


	62. LXII

LXII

Planning a wedding was not an easy task, there seemed to be a million things to have to worry about, and Erik had to admit that he knew little about many of them. There were the obvious: a place for the service, guests, food and reception, the dress, apparently flowers were important. He could deal with those things fairly easily; it was the little details that Christine and Meg always talked about that confused him.

"Erik, have you thought about who you want to come?" she asked while he sat in the parlour of her house.

"Hmm?" he grunted, frowning at the different invitations Meg had given him, "well…no…"

He heard the frown in her voice, "There must be someone."

"Well…the Armands, I suppose," he shrugged, "I would consider them friends…"

"Alright," she said, sounding a bit more cheerful, "sop the Armands, Colette and her family, Madame and Meg…"

"That sounds right," Erik muttered, trying to find the difference between two of the cards, "I have no family that I know of."

"Its just…that's so few people," Christine murmured.

"That could be nice," Erik pointed out.

"I like that one," Christine said, pointing to the invitation in his left hand.

"Then we shall use this one," he said, tossing the other back to the table.

"Have you found a church yet?" Christine asked.

Erik wrinkled his nose, "I have asked Antoinette to do that for me. I'm afraid that I am not the one to be doing such things. I would be completely clueless as to what I would be looking for."

Christine kissed his cheek, "Reception?"

"I could most likely manage that," he said.

"Meg had a few ideas," Christine murmured.

"I am sure that she does," Erik chuckled, "flowers?"

"White and red roses?" Christine asked.

"Sounds perfect. What else?"

"Well…"

* * *

Erik was glad to be walking through the city, there was only so much wedding planning that one could handle in one sitting. They wanted to be married fairly quickly; Christine had actually been the one to suggest that. So it was all somewhat rushed, and Erik was beginning to wonder about her dress and whether they would be able to get everything in time. With a small groan he massaged his temples. 

"Headache, Sabina?"

Erik jumped slightly and turned to see Charles smiling at him, "Yes."

"Work?" Charles asked, falling into step beside him.

"No," Erik answered slowly, "actually it is something else…"

"Oh?" Charles stared at him quizzically, "woman trouble?"

Erik gave a small laugh, "Yes, it could be classified as that, I suppose."

"I knew it!" Charles laughed.

"Hmmm," Erik frowned.

"Tell me about it?" Charles asked, "I might just be able to offer you some advice."

"I am certain that you could," Erik laughed, "I believe that you have been through this before…marriage."

Charles stopped short, eyes widening and mouth hanging open, "What? You-but…what, when? Who?"

Erik sighed, "You remember Miss Daae?"

The look of shock only magnified, "What?"

"Yes, Christine," Erik repeated.

"But…that's why Raoul punched you," Charles murmured, "because you…"

"It is far more complicated than that, I assure you."

"I should hope so," Charles frowned, "I should also hope that I am invited."

"You will be receiving an invitation soon," Erik nodded.

"You've set a date?"

"More or less," Erik shrugged, "near the end of the month…or beginning of the next."

"Rushing things?" Charles teased.

"Hmm," Erik frowned, "my thoughts exactly. There seems to be much more to weddings than meets the eye."

"Indeed," Charles laughed, "I left most of it up to Danielle and her mother and friends."

"Yes, it seems that little Meg Giry had a multitude of ideas. Not that I mind, it seems I am only there to look at the different choices and then agree to the one that Christine suggests."

"Then you are doing well, my friend," Charles laughed, "that is exactly what I did. Have you chosen a church yet? A place for the reception?"

"Madame Giry is finding a church. The reception is my job," Erik shrugged, "I am sure that I will be able to find something."

"Well, will it be a large wedding?"

"No, quite the opposite. It will be quite small, only a few close friends."

"Well then I should offer you my house," Charles laughed, "there will be plenty of room there. The cook can make a special meal and everything."

"I would not want to put you out," Erik said, "it seems like a lot of trouble."

"Nonsense!" Charles laughed, "It would be my pleasure."

"In that case, I believe I will take you up on your offer," Erik smirked.

"Wonderful! But now you must tell me of how all this came to pass," he said, "perhaps we could get a drink? I have some news as well, though I believe Danielle was the one who wished to tell you."

"Then perhaps it can wait," Erik suggested.

"Yes, I suppose so. Time for your story now, so come along. I know of a nice café."

Erik explained the story rather messily, omitting certain parts of it and muddling through others. Charles seemed to understand it however, though he did ask a few questions, which Erik attempted to answer as clearly as possible.

"Well…I have to admit that I did have my suspicions," Charles murmured once Erik was finished, "I mean…I didn't want to ask or anything."

"Of course not," Erik shrugged.

"Well…I guess it all makes a bit more sense now. Though am I right in guessing that you have left parts out?"

"Rather large parts," Erik admitted with a wry laugh, "but I did leave in the important parts."

"I see," Charles said, leaning back in his chair, "well then…Danielle knows?"

Erik gave a small nod, "Your wife is a very intelligent woman."

"Yes she is," Charles agreed, "and far wiser than I am."

Erik smirked, "she will make a wonderful mother."

Charles looked up suddenly and laughed, "You knew?"

"I suspected," Erik laughed, "congratulations, Charles."

"Thank you," he smiled, "I'm not sure that I'm ready for it though. Just think of it, Sabina: me, a father!"

"Poor child," Erik teased, "it will have to grow up in an enormous house with two loving parents."

Charles gave a small laugh, "Yes…I suppose so. But you married?"

"Indeed," Erik agreed, "only a thousand things to do before the month is out."

"Well then, let's start with something you can handle," Charles joked, "menu? I'll need to tell me chef what to make."

"That I do know," Erik sighed, taking a folded piece of paper from his jacket, "I have strict orders in fact."

Charles took the paper and read it over, "Simple enough, I do believe that our cooks can pull this off. Now…"

* * *

Christine sighed heavily after taking a sip of her tea. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have set a later date. Though she didn't really want that, she wanted to be married. The preparations were just stressful. 

"You look tired," Meg said, flopping down beside her, "Erik left?"

"Yes, and I can't blame him. Somehow I don't see him being too interested in invitations and flowers. Madame is going to find a church, and he said he'd find a place for the reception. I can do the rest with your help. It won't be very big, after all."

"Flowers?"

"Red and white roses," Christine smiled, "I figured we'd get them from the shop we used to work at. It only seems fair."

"Splendid idea. We can go tomorrow after a morning at the theatre," Meg said, "invitations?"

Christine pointed to the one they had selected, "Those ones…I guess I'll just get the rest tomorrow and then handwrite them. It shouldn't take too long."

"Cake?" Meg continued.

Christine shrugged, "Just white, nothing too fancy. Again with so few people we won't need a big one."

"Have you thought about dresses yet?" Meg asked.

"I thought…maybe I'll wear the one Erik made for me. I still have it after all, and with a few small adjustments and maybe a wash it would be perfect."

"Well I could do that," Meg said, "or maman, or even you. Maybe there isn't as much as you thought."

Christine gave a tired smile, "Maybe not, but it feels like so much more."

"It'll be fine," Meg assured her, wrapping her arms around her friend's shoulders, "I'm here to help."

Christine gave a small laugh, "I guess so…so flowers tomorrow?"

"Invitations the day after that," Meg nodded, "one thing at a time and we can get through this!"

* * *

**A/N: Wedding plans! How stressful they can be...or at least I assume that they're stressful, I've heard that they are. Well, been re-readign my old stories and wow...they're not that good! I mean I still like the ideas behind them and some of the lines, but other than that...ugh. Should be fun to re-write them though...and perhaps give you something original.**


	63. LXIII

LXIII

"Meg, wait up!" Christine cried, jogging up to her friend and grabbing onto her arm.

"Well hurry up," Meg teased, "we have flowers to pick out. We were just lucky to have passed the shop and get the invitations."

"You got lost on purpose, admit it," Christine laughed.

"Maybe," Meg said, "but that is beside the point. Right now we have red and white roses to pick out."

"I swear that you may be more excited than I am," Christine laughed.

They entered the shop laughing and smiling. Meg waved at the plump red-haired woman behind the counter, "Hello, Madame Bordeaux!"

"Girls," the woman beamed, "oh, how have you two been?"

"Very good," Meg laughed.

"Come to visit?" Madame Bordeaux asked, "Or come to buy?"

"But," Christine laughed, "Or at least order."

"Ah, an order. That must mean a special occasion," she chortled, "what are you looking for?"

"Red and white roses," Christine told her.

"And what will they be for?"

Christine smiled and held up her hand, "A wedding."

"Oh!" the older woman exclaimed, "sapristi! You are getting married? My word, how exciting. Red and white roses you say? Well I shall have the best for you. When do you need them by?"

"I have all the details here," she laughed, taking out a slip of paper, "how many I want and where and when they should be delivered."

"Thought things through…oh my, the end of the month?" she gasped.

"You can do it, can't you?" Meg asked.

"Of course," Madame Bordeaux puffed, "I will have this order for you, but it will cost a fair penny."

"That isn't a problem," Christine assured her.

"Very well then. I shall have them all by the end of the month…oh how exciting."

"Could we get this bouquet as well?" Meg asked, picking out an arrangement of daisies, "we need something to brighten up the house."

"Of course."

Meg smiled and handed her the proper amount, "Thank you so much."

"Wait a minute; wouldn't you like to look at some arrangements?" Madame Bordeaux asked.

"I trust you," Christine smiled, "I've seen what you can do. Besides, I don't' think that my fiancé could handle another choice. The invitations and the menu seemed to be enough for him."

Madame Bordeaux chuckled, "Ah yes, I remember those days. Well, I wish you a happy wedding then, if I do not see you before then, and a happy honeymoon."

"I'm afraid there won't be much of one," Christine sighed, "we both have work."

"A shame. But I suppose sometimes you just can't get away."

"No, sometimes you can't," Christine agreed, "well, good day, Madame."

"Yeah," Meg agreed, "and thank you."

"You're more than welcome dears. Have a good day."

The exited the store and Christine gave a big sigh, "Well then, I guess that's all for now."

"Yup," Meg laughed, "come on, let's get a hot chocolate at the café, then we can take these flowers home and set the table for Maman."

"Good idea," Christine laughed.

* * *

Erik tapped his fingers idly against the desk, starting at the sketched before him. They were good, he decided. The layout made sense; the exterior was meticulously designed, as was the interior for that matter. It wasn't overly large, but still enough for an aristocrat to be happy. Not that he could picture Charles being unhappy with it. The man loved anything he did, or so it seemed.

"Will you be eating supper today?" the maid asked, standing over him with her hands on her hips. It was actually quite comical, given her short and stout build.

"Not tonight," Erik muttered, sliding the final designs into the portfolio, "but thank you."

"You should eat more," she scolded.

"I will," Erik muttered, looking over a few papers.

"And what are all those for?" the maid asked.

"They are bank statements and information regarding the land that I have purchased along with the architects and masons that I have hired," Erik said.

"Oh, and what do you need all that for?"

"For the house that I am building," Erik answered, "think about it, Madame. In a years, or if all goes well a bit less than that, you will no longer have to deal with me."

"And what has brought this on so suddenly?" the maid asked.

Erik shrugged, "Marriage."

She just stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly open "What?"

"I am getting married," Erik repeated smoothly, "that is why I have been away from the house so much these past few days. There have been many things to look into."

"And when were you planning to tell me this?" the maid demanded shrilly, "I think that I ought to know when there will be a new member in this house. I am the one who does all the cooking and cleaning after all!"

"I was going to tell you," Erik shrugged, "when I thought the time was right. It will not be until the end of the month."

The maid sniffed, "Humph, well I am leaving for now, Monsieur. That is if you still do not want dinner."

"I will survive without it," Erik said, turning back to his work and waving her away, "good night, Madame."

"Good night indeed," she sniffed before trundling off, muttering under her breath.

* * *

Christine watched as Meg worked on her dress, giving a small laugh as her friend struggled to thread a needle. Meg was actually quite talented when it came to sewing, but getting the nearly invisible string through the tiny eye always caused her trouble.

"Got it," she finally said.

Christine just smiled and signed her name to an invitation before putting it into the envelope and neatly writing the address on it. It was the last one, so all she had to do was send them. Erik had been by earlier to sign his name as well, but had then departed on claims of work.

"I'll need you to put this on, actually," Meg frowned, "so I can see how it fits and stuff."

Christine nodded and took the dress up to her room to change. Meg followed her in and helped, then set to work on fixing the few tears of the fabric.

"How bad is it?" Christine asked.

"Not bad, actually," Meg said, "easily fixed at least. With a good wash it should be fine."

"Wonderful," Christine smiled, "but I guess I'll still need a veil."

"Oh I can do that," Meg assured her, "I can get it finished tomorrow, actually. As long as I can get the fabric. Which, since we do work at a theatre, shouldn't be too difficult."

"Meg," Christine mock-scolded.

"They have tonnes of it," Meg shrugged they won't miss it-oops! I didn't' just prick you, did I?"

"No," Christine murmured, and then smiled, "its all coming together, Meg!"

"I know," she replied, blinking back tears, "think of it, by the beginning of next month you'll be married and moved out…"

"Meg?" Christine asked.

"Its nothing,' she murmured, "I guess I'll just miss you."

"You'll still see me!" Christine assured her, "at the theatre and I'll visit often. I won't be that far."

Meg wiped at her eyes, "I know, but you've always been right there with me, ever since we were little. You being gone all of a sudden just seems a bit scary. You've always been just one room or bed over…now you'll be in a whole other house."

Christine gave a sad smile, "Yeah…I guess it will be pretty different. But in a good way. Just think about it, Meg, soon you'll find someone and want to spend all your time with him and none of it with me."

Meg gave a small laugh, "I guess so…but right now I should be spending all my time on this dress. So hold still and I'll try not to prick you too many times."

"You'd better not," Christine laughed.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, so next chapter will be the day before the wedding then after that the wedding and reception then...an epilogue and we are finished! W00t! It has been a long run with this one, but fun all the way. Seeign it finish will be kind of sad. But still, on to newer, better thing, non? Please review!**


	64. LXIV

LXIV

Everything was ready. Christine and Meg had just been to the church to ensure that. The dresses were bought, the flowers were arranged, the invitations had been sent and Richard, Colette and Fleur were in the city. It was all ready, now all that was left was to wait.

"You look nervous," Meg told her.

"Anxious," Christine murmured, "and excited. I just hope everything will go well."

"It'll all be fine," Meg assured her, "everything's ready."

"I know," Christine said, "but I'm still a bit nervous."

Meg laughed and gave her a one armed hug, "Come on, lets go get a treat at the café. It'll make you feel better."

Christine gave a small laugh, "Yeah, I bet it will."

They started towards the small café that they had become so enamoured with, smiling and laughing as they went. A few people turned their heads as they passed, curious as to what had them in such a cheerful mood.

"I bet Erik is a nervous wreck," Meg laughed.

"He seems fairly calm actually," Christine shrugged, "he's been keeping fairly busy though. He's building a house."

"Oh, how sweet!" Meg gasped.

"Its beautiful," Christine smiled, "I've seen the designs before."

"How wonderful," Meg said, giving a small laugh, "will it be in Paris?"

"I think it's in Paris," Christine shrugged, "or very close by."

"That's nice. You know, I hope that I'll…Christine?" Meg asked, turning to see that her friend had stopped a few feet back.

"Go on ahead, Meg," Christine smiled, "order me something, I'll be there in a minute. I just have to do something."

"Alright," Meg shrugged, turning and heading into the café.

Christine turned and took a few steps back, taking a deep breath, "Raoul?"

Her old friend turned around, a slight frown creasing his brow until he saw her. It then evaporated and he gave a tired little smile, "Oh, good afternoon, Christine."

She smiled, taking in his form. He looked tired and worn, and she couldn't help but wonder if some of it was her fault, "How have you been? I haven't seen you in so long."

He shrugged, "Fine, I guess. And you?"

"Very good," she smiled, holding up her hand with a guilty little smile, "I-I'm engaged."

"Oh," he said, "th-that's nice. It's good. I'm happy for you…when is the wedding?"

"Tomorrow," she murmured.

"Oh…well congratulations. I hope it goes well," he said, trying to smile.

"You-you could come," she suggested, "there'll be room; there aren't many people…so if you'd like."

"I don't think I'd be welcome," he muttered.

"I asked…it would be fine," Christine said.

"I couldn't go anyways," he answered, "I'm leaving tomorrow…for Madrid."

"Oh," Christine said, "how long?"

He shrugged, "A while…maybe a few years. Maybe longer."

"I see…well have a good trip," she said, forcing a smile, "I'm sure it will be nice there."

Another shrug, "It isn't really my choice…but maybe."

There was a long silence before Christine spoke again, "Well, Meg will be waiting for me…"

"And I should be going," Raoul murmured, "take care, Christine."

"You too…and have a safe trip," she said, touching his arm, "Write me?"

He gave a small nod, "If you wish."

"I do…just send the letter to Madame Giry, she'll get them to me…good bye."

He gave a stiff little bow, "Good bye."

Christine watched as he walked away, then went to find Meg in the café. Her friend gave her a questioning look and Christine just shrugged it off, taking her seat, "What did you order?"

"Tea and pastries," Meg answered.

* * *

Christine and Meg returned home to find Richard, Colette and Fleur there, along with Erik, who had Fleur sitting on his lap telling him some story. The two greeted their guests and Erik offered them both a warm smile.

"Erik?" Fleur asked, "Are you listening."

"Oh yes," he answered too seriously, "do continue."

"Good," she said, then launched back into her story.

"Did you have a safe trip?" Christine asked Colette.

"Yes, it was fine," Colette answered, "well, Fleur was rather excited, but other than that."

Meg laughed, "I see she's already trapped Erik."

"Yes, well she certainly sees him as a good friend," Colette sighed, "I guess he could be compared to a favourite uncle. But he seems to take it all in stride…I think he's nervous about tomorrow."

Christine smiled, "So am I…or maybe anxious."

"Not excited?" Colette asked.

"That too," Christine said, biting her lower lip, "I really can't wait."

Colette smiled widely, "That is a good sign. It won't be that much longer though."

"I know, but time always seems to pass more slowly when you're waiting for something. I doubt I'll be able to get any sleep tonight."

"Girls!" Antoinette called from the kitchen, "come help me set the table, dinner is almost ready."

"I'll help you," Colette said.

"Thanks," Meg laughed, "I only hope everyone will fit around the table."

"Me too!" Fleur exclaimed, bouncing off of Erik's lap, "I wanna help!"

Once she was gone Richard laughed, "Nervous?"

"Me?" Erik asked, raising his eyebrow, "terribly so."

Richard grinned, "You do a good job of hiding it."

"Yes well," Erik nodded, "all the distractions help."

"It will all be fine," Richard assured him, "I was a nervous wreck before my wedding, but it all worked out in the end. There was really no reason to worry."

Erik gave a small smile, "Indeed, but somehow that doesn't help."

"Just…try not to throw up," Richard teased.

Erik laughed, "I will try my hardest, but make no promises."

"Then eat a light breakfast."

"I never eat breakfast."

"Then you are set. Now come, I believe supper is ready."

They ate and then enjoyed a visit before Erik had to return home. Then they all dispersed for their own rooms, Christine and Meg sharing one for the night so that their guests would have a place to sleep.

"Can you sleep?" Meg whispered.

"No," Christine replied, "I'm too excited."

"Me too," Meg giggled, "and I'm not even the one being married…but we should probably try."

"Yeah," Christine agreed, "good night, Meg."

"Night," Meg murmured, "sleep well, Christine."

"You too," Christine murmured, closing her eyes.

Meg gave a sad smile before closing her eyes as well. She really would miss her best friend, and even though she was happy for her, she would admit that the prospect also made her a little sad.

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter is the last official one, then just the epilogue! Please leave a review...I'll have the next chapter, or maybe even both, up later tonight or tomorrow most likely.**


	65. LXV

LXV

Charles grinned as Erik paced the length of the room, a frown creasing his brow and his hands fiddling with the ends of his sleeves, "Relax, Sabina."

"Stop grinning," Erik retorted.

Charles shook his head slightly, "Stop pacing. You'll wear a hole in the floor."

Erik snorted and stopped for a second before starting again, Charles threw his hands into the air and turned away, "That's it! You're making me nervous!"

He left the room then to leave Erik to his pacing and a few seconds later Danielle entered, smiling softly and shaking her head, "Calm down, Monsieur, there's no need to be so anxious."

Erik sighed as she rested a hand on his arm, compelling him to stop, "There. Now, no need to get all worked up, everything is running smoothly. Christine is dressed, the church is ready, and our house is ready. If you don't stop this worrying you'll make yourself sick."

Erik gave a weak smile and nodded, "I know…"

Danielle smiled and kissed his cheek, "have you heard my news yet? I am sure that Charles has told you, and that you knew before both of us, but I must ask."

"I have," Erik said, "congratulations; it is wonderful news, non?"

Danielle smiled, a blush tinting her cheeks, "Yes, its quit exciting…Charles is happy too, though he seems a bit scared. I think he worries about being a father."

"He is a fool," Erik stated, "Your husband will make an excellent father, just as you will make a spectacular mother."

Her blush deepened, "Oh, I don't know about that…"

"I do," Erik said confidently.

She smiled and patted his hand, "You're too kind, Monsieur."

"I only tell the truth," he assured her.

"Well…I think it's almost time now, you should be getting to the front of the church, hmm?"

Erik took a deep breath and gave her a crooked smile, "Indeed."

"It will be fine," she said, leading him from the room, "I guarantee it."

* * *

Christine wrung her fingers together nervously, occasionally twisting the ring on her finger, "I'm no nervous."

"You will be fine," Antoinette said soothingly, "and you look beautiful, my dear. Simply beautiful."

Christine smiled, "Thank you."

"I only tell the truth," she said, putting her hands on Christine's arms and rubbing them, "hmm, just look at you…all grown up."

Christine shook her head, "Not really."

"Yes you are," Antoinette said, blinking back tears, "one of my little girls all grown up and getting married…I am very proud of you, my dear. Very proud indeed."

Christine smiled and wiped at her eyes, "Thank you…"

Antoinette smiled and placed the veil on Christine's head, "There, now you are all set."

"Maman," Meg said, peeking through the door, "its time."

Christine twisted her fingers together fiercely, "I guess this is it."

"Indeed, there is no going back now," Antoinette agreed, "come, my dear."

Christine nodded and looped her arm through Antoinette's. After all, she needed someone to give her away, and Antoinette was the closest thing she had to a parent. So she was guided to the chapel by her guardian, her heart beating quickly in her chest.

"Ready?" Antoinette asked once they were at the doors.

Christine took a deep breath and nodded her head, clutching her bouquet tightly, "ready."

The door opened and the music started and it all seemed surreal. The church was perfectly decorated with arrangements of red and white roses, Erik was standing at the front along with the priest, and the few guests stood as they entered and walked slowly up the aisle. Then Antoinette left her at the front, patting her hand once before taking a seat with Meg and all Christine could do was smile nervously at Erik and wait as the priest began.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…"

* * *

The priest went though the traditional verses before they came to the vows. He then handed them each a ring and had them recite the vows, allowing Erik to go first.

"I, Erik, take you, Christine, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part," Erik said, slipping the ring onto her finger.

I, Christine, take you, Erik, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part," Christine mimicked, placing the ring on his finger.

The priest looked between them and smiled, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Erik smiled and Christine folded the veil back from her face, smiling when he placed a finger under her chin and tilted it upwards to meet his lips in a tender kiss. When he pulled back she just smiled as the few people there clapped.

"What now?" Erik whispered.

"I guess I throw the bouquet," Christine laughed.

He gave a low laugh, "And then?"

"We live happily ever after," she said.

Erik nodded, "I think…that I'd like that very much."

**FIN**

* * *

**A/N: Well there you have it; the wedding. Lovely wasn't it? Very short I know, but somehow that's all that I thought it really needed. Adding the reception and stuff just kinda seemed...pointless, I guess. Like too much. Ah well, leave a review with your opinion and I shall know what you think. Epilogue up tomorrow, since I should really get to bed.**


	66. Epilogue

Epilogue

Christine added a touch of blush to her cheeks and ran a brush through her curls one last time before leaving the room. Below she could hear a knock at the door, followed by the voices of their guests as they entered.

"She'll be down in a minute," Erik told them, "we can wait in the parlour until then."

"Erik, did you get us presents?" Fleur asked excitedly.

"Fleur," Colette scolded, even as the other two children chimed in with the same question.

"Of course," Erik gasped, "what sort of man do you think I am? If you go into the parlour you will find them under the tree."

Christine smiled to herself as the scampering of feet echoed up the marble staircase. She half expected to hear the thump of someone hitting the floor, but instead heard Charles' objections, "Don't run in the house!"

She made her way down the stairs then, just as there was another knock on the door, "I'll get it!" she called, nearly running to the door to open it.

"Christine!" Meg exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her neck, "mmm, merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Meg," Christine laughed, going to hug Antoinette.

"Merry Christmas, my dear," Antoinette smiled, "and thank you for the invitation. The house is gorgeous."

"I know," Christine smiled, "two years, but worth it, no?"

"Definitely!" Meg agreed, "Hello, Erik."

"Good evening," he smiled, giving a small bow before accepting hugs from both Meg and Antoinette, "and merry Christmas."

"To you as well," Antoinette nodded, "thank you for the invitation."

"Think nothing of it," he replied, "come, everyone else is in the parlour."

They all seated themselves in the parlour, where the children had already found their presents and were more than ready to open them. Charles and Danielle's little boy was shaking his box in attempts to identify what was inside, and Fleur's little sister was already untying the ribbon, while her sister tried to stop her.

"No, you can't do that, Michelle," Fleur protested.

"Its fine," Erik said, sitting down beside Christine, "go ahead, open your gifts."

That was achieved quickly and with much thanks before they were quickly occupied with their new toys. Charles smirked, "You spoil them, Sabina."

"I do try," he answered, "and it is Christmas, Armand."

"I guess so," he laughed, "and for New Years the celebration will be at my house, understood? No stealing the party then."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Erik said, "I will be far too busy then to even think about a party."

"Oh that's right!" Danielle gasped, "It's after new years that the Opera Populaire will be reopening, isn't it?"

"It is," Antoinette confirmed.

"Charles, you did get tickets, didn't you?" Danielle asked, "Please say that you did, I've heard that they have sold out, and we must attend. I would not miss Christine's debut on stage for anything."

"Of course. I got them ages ago, the second they went on sale in fact," he chuckled, "and we cannot forget Miss Giry either, prima ballerina hmm?"

Meg blushed, "I'm excited."

"As you both should be," Antoinette said.

"Ewik?" Charles little boy asked, tugging on his pant leg.

"Yes?" he asked, leaning down to look at her.

"You do magic?" he asked excitedly.

Erik gave a low chuckle, "After supper, hmm?"

The little boy smiled widely. He was just like his father, though Erik always teased that he got his looks from his mother. Charles whole heartedly agreed though, so it took some of the fun from it.

"Is supper soon?" Fleur asked, "I'm hungry."

"Yes, in fact we could go into the dining room now. How does that sound, Michelle?"

The little girls nodded her slowly, staring at him from under her blonde bangs. The little girl was definitely much shyer than her sister.

"Well then, shall we?" Christine asked, motioning towards the door.

"We shall," Charles laughed, leading the way out.

Erik and Christine left the room last, and Erik paused outside the dining room to steal a quick kiss. Christine smiled up at him, placing her hand over her stomach and glancing down. Erik smiled back and kissed her forehead tenderly.

"Coming you two?" Meg called.

"Yes," Erik replied, then turned his attention back to Christine and placed his hand over hers, "you're feeling well?"

"I feel wonderful. Stop worrying so," she replied, placing a hand on his cheek, "come on, we can't keep our guests waiting."

He nodded his head and led the way into the dining room, pulling out Christine's chair before sitting himself. The meal was already ready to be served and he couldn't help but smile to himself.

"Well everything looks perfect," Charles commented.

"Indeed," Erik agreed, "everything does seem perfect."

* * *

**A/N: And now...it is really finished (NO WAI!!!)! Wow...I feel empty inside. I've spent so much time on this and now its done. Yes..empty but accomplished. Like when I spent an entire semester working on an essay on Jack the Ripper and then I handed it in and suddenly the books were gone and so was all the work. ;A; So leave a review. I've already finished re-writing the first chapter of "Time to Heal" and will permaybehaps have a modern day story posted soon...maybe...review!**


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